


The Scavenger and the Prince

by pure1magination



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aladdin (1992) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Redemption, Love at First Sight, M/M, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pure1magination/pseuds/pure1magination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The truth is... The truth is, sometimes I dress like a commoner! To... to escape the pressures of palace life!" -Aladdin (1992)</p>
<p>aka the Reylo Aladdin AU no one asked for, starring Matt the Radar Technician</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scavenger and the Prince

**Author's Note:**

> starts loosely based off Aladdin, and then kind of becomes its own thing

Kylo Ren stormed down the hallway, black cloak billowing behind him, shoulders squared. He rounded a corner. The hallway was empty as far as he could tell, but he remained on high alert, radiating intimidation and tension with every step. He was a man to be feared and obeyed. He was in charge. He was… _relieved_ when finally reached his bedroom.

Kylo Ren removed his mask and ran a hand through his cloud of wavy black hair. He released a breath he’d been holding in all day. Everywhere he went, something was expected of him. To be a leader, to be powerful, as smooth with politics as his mother, as ruthless with rebels as his mentor. Kylo Ren shed the pieces of his costume one at a time, and shed the name Kylo Ren along with them. It had been building for days. The coiled tension, the need to escape.

He put on the blond wig.

Kylo Ren’s bedroom had an exit that no one else knew about, a secret door built into the wall just in case. There was an endless list of apocalyptic possibilities that would lead him to use this door, including but not limited to the Resistance storming the castle and demanding his head.

He finished lacing up the plain brown boots and used that exact door.

Creeping across the palace grounds, keeping low and to the shadows, had become routine to him now. He knew when and where each guard would be. Dodging them was a simple matter.

He made it all the way to the castle wall when a low animal growl startled him. Hand over his heart, he turned around, moonlight glinting off of his glasses. “Phasma!” he said with relief, coming down from his spike of fear. Phasma, his pet tiger, sat down near him and cocked her head. He turned back to the wall slowly. She made another noise. “Shhh!” he shushed her. “I’ll be right back!”

Phasma didn’t listen. Or maybe she didn’t understand. Either way, she was butting her head against his hand and making worried noises.

He rolled his eyes in fond exasperation and shook his head. He stooped down to cup her face with both hands and quietly informed her he’d return the next morning, just like always.

She probably didn’t understand that, either- she never seemed to understand anything he said to her, although she did have odd moments where she’d prove she was much smarter than everyone thought her to be- but much to his relief, she stopped making noises and let him climb over the castle wall in peace.

*

Sunlight flooded the marketplace. Canopies draped this way and that. Merchants hawked their wares. Wagons and tables were filled to overflowing with fruits and beads and dried beans, pottery, carpets, freshly caught meat, and all sorts of other things. Civilians milled about, drifting from this booth to that, arguing over the price of everything.

A dashingly handsome man with dark hair leaned over one such booth, his elbow resting on the wooden ledge, his dark eyes half-open as he gazed at the woman through lowered lashes. The middle-aged woman was staring at him with a mixture of disapproval and shocked confusion, as though she were halfway between believing him and punching him in the face. The woman completely missed the short, wiry girl who popped up next to her booth and shoved half a dozen apples into the drapey off-white material of her dress.

She disappeared just as skilfully as she’d appeared. It was as though she’d never been there. The dashingly handsome man wrapped up his conversation with the middle-aged woman, set down the apple he’d been admiring with a wistful sigh, and cast his glance around the dusty street.

The observer of this scene barely had time to realize what had just transpired when he locked eyes with the girl. Suddenly there she was, standing off to the side, hand resting on a pouch slung over her shoulder, and it was as if time had frozen. The sunlight brought out reddish golds in her hair, which was pulled back from her face. Two curly tendrils had escaped and kissed her freckled cheeks. Her features were delicate, her cheekbones strong. She seemed to move in slow motion as the world slammed back to life. He realized she’d stolen apples; she realized she’d been caught a split second before he shouted “HEY!” and several people turned to look at him.

The dashing dark-haired man glanced over his shoulder at the man who had shouted. He gave the man a strange look tinged with alarm and headed straight for the girl.

So did he.

The crowd parted around them, intrigued, but hesitant to interfere.

He chased them. The girl dodged and weaved through the crowd like a fish in a stream, the dark-haired man close behind her.

“HEY!” he called again. They did not slow.

But he was tall, and his legs were long. Eventually he caught them in an alley. The dark-haired handsome man stood protectively in front of the girl, eyes flashing challenge.

Both of them were dressed in tattered… _rags._ Now that they were out of the sunlight, the rips and tears in their dirty, smudged clothing were much more obvious. Both their chests were heaving; the girl’s eyes were wide with both fear and challenge.

“I--” he started, but choked off. He couldn’t very well tell them who he was. He couldn’t officially conduct any sort of arrest. And something about the way the girl curled protectively around those apples made him soften. “...I wanted those,” he finished lamely.

The dark-haired man squinted at him oddly. “You chased after us and caused all that scene just because you wanted _those particular apples?”_

The tall man awkwardly shuffled his weight. “...Yes?”

The dark-haired man sent a perplexed, skeptical glance back at the girl. The girl’s eyes had dropped from his face and taken in his patched overalls, his plain work boots, the awful dye job on his ‘hair.’ Her defiance faded into something akin to understanding. She reached into her bag and took out one apple. She held it out towards him.

He stared at the apple; he felt his demeanor soften.

“Rey, you don’t have to-” the dark-haired man said.

“It’s just one apple,” she said, stepping closer. “Take it.” She picked up one of his hands and wrapped it around the apple, turning their hands until she pulled hers away, and he found himself holding the apple.

Gratitude welled up in his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given him a gift without his demanding for it. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone was so kind to him. The apple was heavy in his hand, ripe and gently fragrant. A tiny frown creased his brows. This wasn’t right. He really ought to give the apple back.

“What’s your name?”

He met her eyes with surprise. He almost answered honestly, “K--” but caught himself. “I’m Matt. I’m a radar technician.”

“I’m Rey.” She was beaming at him. Something danced in her eyes. It took him several beats too long to realize she was holding out her hand towards him, and he was supposed to shake it. Awkwardly, he reached out with his empty hand. It engulfed her tiny, fine-boned one. Her grip was surprisingly firm, her fingers surprisingly warm. She both initiated and ended the handshake. “Are you new in town?” she asked, tilting her head to the side and squinting up at him.

“I, uh--” he ran a hand through the back of his blond wig. “I don’t get out much. Lots of radars to… fix.”

The dark-haired man snorted. “I’m Poe.” He held out his hand as well. Matt eyed it suspiciously. Poe smirked and withdrew. “Rey here’s my sister.” He stood closer to Rey and looked Matt up and down with vaguely flirtatious eyes. “And you look like you could use more than just a few apples.”

He felt circles of heat bloom on his cheekbones. “I’m in shape!”

Poe winced playfully. “Beanpoles are indeed a shape. But if you want to look anything like _me,_ you’re gonna need to do more than just fix radars, if you know what I mean.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Rey elbowed Poe, laughing. “Poe!” she chastised. “Don’t mind him,” she told Matt, “He thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

_“And_ men,” Poe corrected with a grin.

Rey rolled her eyes, amused. “And men,” she corrected.

“And you can’t tell me you didn’t notice, Rey. I mean- no offense, Matt, but you _really_ need to brush up on your moves if you’re going to steal enough food to survive. I mean this in the _nicest_ way, but you’re-- how do you say. A little _awkward._ ”

Matt blinked at him in shock. If this peasant had _any_ idea the level of insurrection--

“He’s right,” Rey admitted with chagrin.

“See, stealing takes _finesse._ ” Poe was clearly warming up to the subject. “First off, you can’t go around telling people your real name. That’s too honest; you’ll get caught. You might want to invest in a disguise of some sort, to make you less memorable. For example, sometimes I grow a beard. But of course, there’s no forgetting _this_ handsome face.” Poe stroked his own chin smugly. “So I’m afraid I seldom hit the same place twice. But Rey here is a fuckin’ pro. She can slip in and out faster than you can say ‘Kylo Ren is an asshole!’”

Matt blinked in shock once more, badly tamping down his rage.

“Don’t be afraid,” Rey said, patting Matt’s arm, oblivious to the storm raging below the surface, “I feel it too.” A jolt of shock shot through him. She felt it too? The indignation rising over such insults to-- “The nerves,” she clarified.  “Every time I steal anything, there’s this huge rush of adrenalin, because I _know_ it’s against the law. But the way the First Order runs things, it’s near-impossible to afford _anything!_ It’s _preposterous,_ really!”

Matt attempted to override his disappointment. “Wouldn’t everything run more smoothly if everyone actually _paid_ for things?” he said tensely.

“Theoretically, they would,” Poe granted smoothly, “but with everyone trying to swindle everybody, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to survive.” He took a juicy bite out of an apple that no one had noticed him snatching out of Rey’s bag.

“What we need is a _fair system,_ ” Rey added as she took out an apple of her own and polished it against her (dirty) dress. “The First Order is too preoccupied with conquering everything they possibly can to care about what’s going on locally. It’s almost as if the King and Queen don’t have any power at all. When they were in charge, at least the kingdom ran smoothly.”

Her crunch punctuated the spike of rage and pain that coursed through him. “It wasn’t all sunshine and roses.” He glowered. “Those two fought like cats and dogs.”

“But they _did_ know how to run a kingdom,” Poe reiterated.

“Right into the ground!” Matt argued, seething with private angst.

“Hey!” Poe frowned. “Don’t insult King Han and Queen Leia in my presence! I’ll have you know I was once a respected member of the Royal Guard!”

“He’s loyal to them till his death,” Rey said with wearied amusement.

“Damn right I am!” Poe agreed vehemently.

“There,” Matt said with a voice like an oncoming storm, “I’m afraid we have our differences.”

“You _really_ don’t seem to like them,” Rey observed.

“Have you _seen_ what they did to their _son?!”_

Poe was incensed by this remark. “He did that to himself! You can’t blame King Han and Queen Leia for that!”

“Queen Leia sent him to _another country_ and didn’t speak to him for _years!_ She just _threw him away_ like she never even _wanted_ him in the _first_ place! And King Han abandoned his own kingdom to sail around the world for _who_ -knows-how-long on a colonizing mission that ultimately _failed!_ He is possibly the _worst_ king this country has ever seen!”

“Aren’t you forgetting King Anakin?” Poe said coldly.

“King Anakin was a great man!”

“When he was young, yes,” Rey interrupted, “But you can’t deny when he got older, he kind of lost it.”

“Yes!” Poe agreed with Rey gratefully. “It was only by the grace of King Luke that this kingdom regained any sense of regularity after how badly King Anakin fucked it up.”

“I thought you said it was all due to Han and Leia,” Matt mocked.

“It was!” Poe agreed. “And how _dare_ you not address them as King and Queen!”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Oh no, I’ve disrespected royalty.”

Rey was squinting at him curiously. “Who _are_ you, exactly?”

There was something too shrewd in her gaze. Matt backed away a step. “I told you. I’m Matt. I’m a radar technician.”

“But for _whom?”_ she pressed, standing closer.

“I--” Matt swallowed. His mind raced for a plausible explanation. Nothing came to mind. “I work at the castle.”

Poe threw his hands in the air as if to say ‘I knew it!’ or ‘That explains a lot!’ or perhaps even ‘This moron!’

Rey peered closer. “Do you work for _them?_ ” She examined his eyes. The intelligence that sparked within this peasant girl’s eyes seemed to slice right through him, to reach out like bolts of static lightning and electrify his veins. “For the First Order?” she clarified.

“Yes,” he answered without thinking.

“Oh.” Her eyebrows drew together sympathetically. She placed a warm, fine-boned hand on his shoulder, and gave the flesh there a squeeze, her grip surprisingly strong. “I’m so sorry.”

He stared at her, wondering at her kindness, her sympathy. This girl had noticed more things about him in the span of a few minutes than his mother had noticed in an entire lifetime. It was such an odd feeling… to be understood. Something in his chest shifted and shuddered to life. His chest pinched with dull pain, his throat constricting. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers if he tried.

“No one’s said that to you before,” she realized softly, “have they.” Her hand slid down to his upper arm, her grip easing, but still there.

He shook his head faintly.

She smiled grimly and gave his upper arm a squeeze. “I’m sorry,” she said again, and drew her hand away.

*

Kylo Ren couldn’t stop touching that spot on his arm for the rest of the day. He didn’t even realize he was doing it until the royal Grand Vizier called him out on it in his cool, crisp voice, one eyebrow arched.

“Sparring injury,” Kylo Ren answered, grateful for the voice distortion granted by his mask. His voice came out, as always, lower and more confident than it would otherwise sound. “It’s nothing to worry about.” With conscious effort, he pulled his hand away from that spot on his arm.

The pale redhead eyed him suspiciously. “Perhaps you need more _practice._ ”

“It won’t happen again,” Kylo Ren promised ominously.

The redhead chuckled darkly. He patted a hand on Kylo Ren’s shoulder. “Good.”

* * *

Rey did wonder if she’d ever see him again. She kept an eye out in the marketplace, and Poe ribbed her for it, asking if she was looking for someone in particular, but she playfully brushed him off. Several days passed. Rey was beginning to wonder if perhaps Matt had gotten caught. He wasn’t, after all, the most suave or subtle person she’d met. If nothing else, the awful dye job on his hair made him stick out like a sore thumb. But it was that awful hair that she spotted first.

Matt the radar technician was staring at a booth that sold electronics. His tall frame towered awkwardly over the crowd, his expression oddly intense, the bright orange of his overalls contrasting badly with the olive tone of his collared shirt.

“Poe,” Rey said suddenly, “Didn’t you have that _thing_ to go to?”

Poe’s brow creased. “Thing?” he repeated. He caught her gaze flickering behind him and glanced over his shoulder, spotting the awkward bespectacled giraffe. He faced Rey with what was either a grin or a very large wince. “Oh. You want to be _alone._ ”

Rey rolled her eyes and pushed at his shoulder. “I just want to talk to him without you riling him up!”

“Sure, sure,” Poe drawled. “Talk to him without your Voice of Reason.”

“Hardly!” She pushed him harder, grinning. “But I’d like to see what he’s like when he’s not spitting mad!”

“Sure thing, Rey.” Poe knew when to surrender. He cast one more glance at Matt the radar technician, who had stepped forward and was examining an electrical doodad with disproportionate intensity. “Just… be careful, okay?”

Poe was so rarely earnest that Rey sobered for a moment. She gave him a clear smile. “I will be,” she promised.

He searched her face, switched back to a playful smirk, and clapped her on the shoulder. “Tell him I said hi,” he said with bedroom eyes.

Rey snorted and shoved him. “Go!”

Poe skilfully vanished into the crowd, chuckling quietly to himself.

Rey appeared so suddenly at Matt’s side that he fumbled and dropped what he was holding. He apologized far too loudly to the person behind the booth, and Rey giggled as he stooped to awkwardly gather up the pieces of the device and attempted to assemble them as he stood. The shop owner cleared her throat and reached out pointedly for the device. Matt hesitated a moment, then handed it over. The shop owner reassembled it so quickly, neither Matt nor Rey was entirely sure what she did. “Will that be _all?”_ the shop owner asked Matt in a slightly tired voice.

“Um,” Matt said concisely.

“Yes it will. Thanks,” Rey answered for him, one hand on his chest, the other on his upper back, and she exerted pressure there to shepherd him away from the booth. “What were you doing?” she hissed.

“I was,” he began, but faltered. His face seemed creased in a perpetual frown. She was beginning to wonder if that was his default expression. “...Looking for parts,” he said as though he’d just thought of it and he thought it was brilliant.

“For radars,” Rey clarified, her eyebrows raised.

“Yes,” Matt decided.

“Well, you can do _much_ better than that booth. If you’re looking for parts, you might want to try the junkyard. That’s where I get most of mine.”

“You use parts?” Matt asked with deep surprise.

Rey beamed. “Of course! Want to see some of the things I’ve built?” she asked excitedly. She didn’t wait for an answer. “Come on, I’ll show you!”

*

Rey was usually loathe to hold anyone’s hand; she could get by very well on her own, thank you. But Matt exuded such an air of awkward bumbling confusion that she was sure she’d lose him in the crowd if she didn’t. So she’d grabbed his hand and firmly dragged him along until they were well away from the crowd. She didn’t look back to see his face, but his hand was warm and much larger than her own, his fingers oddly smooth, given his profession, and he didn’t release her hand until a moment after she’d released his.

She did wonder at the lack of calluses. Her own hands were fraught with them, riddled with cuts and scratches, her arms speckled with bruises. She had long since grown used to the constant battering. The minor wounds ceased to register with her anymore; it wasn’t unusual for her to return home, only for Poe to take one look at her hands and fuss, and try to bandage her up, all the while Rey told him it was no big deal. She loved Poe, but he was _such_ a mother hen sometimes.

Wherever Matt the radar technician worked, it must have a flat surface, because helping him scrabble up the wall to the junkyard was an exasperating stretch of Rey’s patience. The man was completely helpless at finding handholds and footholds, hesitant at every motion, and he kept slipping. Even at the shortest section of wall, with the _easiest_ hand- and footholds to find- they were _everywhere!_ \- he was _still_ hopelessly clueless. “Oh, just wait for me. I’ll be right back.” Rey scaled the wall with ease, dropped down the other side, and returned shortly thereafter with a makeshift rope. “Climb this.” She threw it down.

Matt grabbed the end of the rope and eyed the wall with trepidation.

Rey sighed and rolled her eyes. She instructed him, as patiently as she could- which wasn’t very, as her patience was running short- and after a long and clumsy struggle, he did manage to make it to the top of the wall. She clasped his upper body and hauled him the rest of the way up. He grabbed onto her upper arms far too tightly, panting. It struck her that he was shaken.

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you afraid of heights?”

Matt gulped. “No,” he lied.

Rey smirked and wrapped her arms more reassuringly around him. “You big liar.”

Matt stiffened.

She stroked his short, coarse hair, much like she’d stroke a friendly animal. His hair was truly awful. “You don’t have to put up a brave front for _me._ ”

“Oh.” Matt’s shoulders eased a fraction. “You… you’re not going to make fun of me?”

Rey pulled back and frowned at him. “What? Of course not!”

There was something very vulnerable and self-conscious about his sulking face, something searching about his eyes.

It dawned on her. “You’ve been made fun of before.” His silent askance pout only confirmed this. She tucked a blond curl back from his forehead. The end of it had caught in the frame of his frankly ridiculous glasses. “I won’t make fun of you,” she promised.

He almost looked spooked. Like she’d said something in a foreign language, and he was torn between defending himself and running away.

She knew he had a long way to go before he’d trust her. It wasn’t exactly easy for Rey to trust people, herself. So instead of reiterating this statement, she tugged him by the wrist and led him down the pile of assorted junk with a friendly “Come on.”

Matt picked and stumbled his way down the pile, nearly twisting his ankle almost every other step. Really, the man was like a baby giraffe learning to walk.

They were both grateful when they made it to the dusty junkyard floor.

Rey tugged him along by the wrist, all comfort and confidence, sure where she was going. This junkyard was a second home to her. She knew every pile of rubble, every broken piece of furniture, every crushed and outdated machine. She knew which steps to take carefully, which twisted spokes of rusted metal to avoid. She carefully avoided those spaces, certain that Matt would inevitably slice his leg open. There was no way she had the strength to carry him out of the junkyard, if he got injured. Skinny or not, he was almost twice her size.

He wasn’t even watching where he was going. He alternately frowned at his surroundings, and frowned at Rey, like he couldn’t quite piece everything together.

“It’s just this way,” Rey said unnecessarily when she felt his eyes on her again. He startled slightly, as though surprised he’d been spoken to. Rey smirked and tried not to find him endearing.

She led him into a tunnel at the far end of the junkyard, which led underground to a cave of sorts; the old sewer system was no longer functional, but the city had lacked the funds or the motivation to demolish it, so many squatters like herself had made use of its paths and chambers. She turned on an electric light. The blue glow glinted off of piles and assortments of metal and electrical pieces, some assembled into machines, some halfway in the process thereof, others sorted in a system that apparently baffled Matt, who was staring at everything in perplexed awe.

A niggling suspicion curled in the back of her mind.

She gave him a blinding smile. “Welcome to my workshop!”

“It’s… small,” he said, frowning.

Rey scoffed in disbelief. “That’s all you have to say?”

Matt blinked. “Um.” He scanned the room cluelessly, shoulders coming up like a defensive shell.

Rey picked up a nearby device and brandished it towards him. “Do you know what this is?”

The deer-in-the-headlights frown answered for him.

Rey rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. “It’s a _radio,_ ” she said as though it should be obvious. She switched it on and flipped through a few stations. Matt’s cheeks slowly tinged pink. She switched it back off, put it down, and picked up another item. “And this.” Another clueless frown. “It’s a space heater. -How about this one?” She held up a toaster, one which she hadn’t even tinkered with; she’d just salvaged it for parts. He stared at it with that same look of baffled consternation. “Honestly!” she exclaimed. Her suspicion stalked towards the front of her brain and knocked against her skull. She dug through a scrap pile and held up one more thing. “What’s this?”

She waited.

“I… don’t know?”

She raised both eyebrows sky-high. “It’s a _calcinator._ ”

He stared at her as though he’d never heard the word before.

She tossed the calcinator down. “Really? You’ve _never_ seen one of those before.”

“...No?”

Rey crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not really a radar technician, are you.”

Panic flashed across Matt’s face. “Of course I am!” He glanced down at his overalls as though this should prove his point.

“All right.” Rey notched her chin up. “Then this should be a simple question: what do I do if my radar beam is malfunctioning?”

“You… check to see why it’s not working.” Matt shuffled awkwardly. He cast a sideways glance at the entrance.

“And how do I do that?” she challenged.

Matt swallowed convulsively a few times. His hands flexed and tightened into fists. One eye ticked. His jaw set. His whole stance became oddly intense. “You’re _questioning_ me?”

“I think that’s fairly obvious.”

Matt loomed towards her. “How _dare_ you.”

“And yet I dare,” Rey countered, unaffected. “You’re not really a radar technician, _are_ you.”

Matt sucked his lips between his teeth, seething. He loomed closer, towering over her, radiating rage and… something else, something raw, like a livewire. Rey met his eyes, refusing to be intimidated. She knew with growing certainty that she was right.

Abruptly, Matt turned away. “Fine!” he shouted. Very quietly, he mumbled, “I’m not a radar technician.”

It was like a bubble popped. Something about the way his shoulders slumped erased every fiber in Rey that had wanted to gloat. His fists were still clenched, his shoulders stiff like a turtle shell.

“You didn’t have to lie to me,” Rey said.

His eyes snapped up to meet hers over his shoulder, backlit with fear. He stared at her for a moment, thoughts dancing across his face, before his expression settled once more and he looked away. “...You wouldn’t like the real me.”

“Nonsense! How could you know that? You didn’t even give me a _chance!”_

Matt’s fists tightened, knuckles white. “I just know,” he said quietly.

This was so self-deprecating Rey really didn’t know what to say. She was angry, and offended, and frankly a bit hurt. It was then that she realized that somehow, despite barely knowing this man at all, she _had_ begun to trust him, and that was so rare an incidence that for it to be thrown in her face like this…

“Well, for your information,” she said just as quietly, “you don’t know me either.”

The coldness in her voice caused Matt to look up. His frown was searching, conflicted. He seemed torn. As though he’d fought with himself and lost the battle, the phrase, “I want to,” escaped his lips. His eyes flickered panic, regret, and resolution the moment after he said it.

“Well,” Rey said, staring into those expressive eyes, “you could start by telling me your _real name._ ”

He was quiet so long she wasn’t sure he was going to answer.

“...Ben.”

And if there had been any other noise in the room, save their breathing, she wouldn’t have heard him.

“Ben,” she repeated. There was something warm about the name, somehow solid and reassuring. She offered him a half-smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Ben.”

The vulnerability was so naked on his face for a moment, she wanted to kiss it. The thought sent warmth creeping into her face. The way he was staring at her only made it worse.

After a very long and oddly intense silence, Ben said, “Don’t tell anyone.”

Rey squinted at him. “Why not?”

His neck stiffened. His jaw clenched. “Someone might recognize me.”

“Are you on the run?”

“No,” he answered quickly. He fiddled with a random piece of metal. “I…” He frowned off into space, gathering words. “The truth is…” The piece of metal broke. He tossed it aside. “The truth is, sometimes I dress up as a peasant and sneak out in order to escape the pressures of palace life.” He cleared his throat, seemed to realize he’d been playing with a piece of metal, and gingerly set the metal back down.

“You don’t sound like you like it there.” Rey cocked her head.

Matt-- _Ben_ was silent for a long moment, staring off into the distance. He seemed to be thinking things over. Abruptly, he released a short, staccato noise that Rey realized was a laugh. “I almost feel more myself when I’m _Matt_ …” His expression turned grim and he shook his head at himself, looking down.

“Then why don’t you get away?” Rey suggested, a hand on his broad shoulder.

He looked at her as though the idea was absurd. “I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“I’m--” He turned away again. “...They would notice, if I was gone.”

“You’re important,” she guessed.

He stiffened. “Yes,” he agreed. This was stated as fact; there was no pride behind it. If anything, there was a note of regret.

She squeezed his shoulder, and accidentally noticed how pleasant the bones and musculature were beneath his shirt. “Perhaps you can be of some influence, then.” She smiled at his look of surprise. “You seem passionate about fixing the kingdom.”

“I am,” he stated firmly.

“Then perhaps you can.”

* * *

Foolish. Rey was so _foolish._ Not the least because she had actually _trusted_ Kylo Ren, but because she _actually believed_ he would change the system. As if he had any interest in relinquishing his power! He was in charge! He was responsible! He was… currently standing in the midst of a pile of ruined tapestries, all of which had been slashed to ribbons with his sword.

He threw his sword down on the floor and stormed to the window. He gripped the stone ledge far too tightly. How could any peasant be so _insolent_ , so self-assured, so-- no. He banished the word from his mind. She had somehow curled herself there, an insistent presence constantly distracting him from his true duties. She beckoned him at every turn, haunted him with every smile. Everywhere he went, something would inevitably remind him of Rey, and he would be utterly useless for a few priceless seconds in which his attention ticked by, frozen in time, oblivious to the very things he needed to be paying attention to. He almost wished they never had met.

And yet, every night, he stared at the stone in the wall concealing his blond wig.

* * *

Finn was having a very no-good, rotten day. A bout of the flu was sweeping its way through the lower ranks of the soldiers, and considering he had the lowest rank possible, he was stuck on cleaning duty. Have you ever seen a community bathroom shared by twenty puking soldiers? Exactly. You don’t want to. And yet, as Finn wheeled the mop and bucket back to the bathroom _yet again,_ he fought against the resignation that this was his life. ‘It will get better,’ they’d say, ‘There is plenty of room for a strong young man to move up in the ranks.’ Well, Finn called bullshit. He’d been doing this for nine years, and there was no promise he’d ever do anything else. Maybe because he’d gotten so fucking _good_ at it. Not to brag, but he was the best damn janitor he’d ever seen.

His day went from bad to worse when, of all things, he overheard two superior officers talking about a _promotion._ They were washing their hands and ignoring the janitor-- he’d long since learned that his low status granted him near-invisibility; people were _constantly_ underestimating or flat-out ignoring him-- and talking about a siege which would soon take place in a neighboring kingdom. The soldiers of the lowest ranks were expendable, they said. They’d be on the front lines.

Finn froze with both hands on the mop handle, halfway through dunking it in the bucket.

The officers continued on, casually discussing how they’d need to recruit more young soldiers anyway, how anyone should feel _honored_ to fight with the First Order. Everyone knew who _really_ ran the kingdom. Queen Leia was merely a figurehead, and Lord knows where King Han disappeared to. What with King Luke missing, the only real influence the ‘miserable prince’ ever had was long gone, and they very much doubted he’d make much of a ruler anyway. They both agreed that Hux was truly the one in charge.

Finn hated Hux with every fiber of his being. The bratty prince wasn’t much better. Dude wore a mask just for the sake of being dramatic. Swept around the castle wearing a black cape, took out his sword any time he felt his authority was threatened. The only reason anyone took him seriously was because he’d kill them on the spot if they didn’t.

But Hux was truly terrifying. He defined the term ‘bloodthirsty.’ Look in the dictionary; Finn was about a thousand percent sure Hux’s picture was there. The dude was cold as ice, eager to inflict death and destruction everywhere he went. There was this manic glint in his eye any time someone mentioned war. He looked down that crooked white nose of his with great disdain towards anyone, absolutely _anyone,_ even the prince, and he roughly had the sympathy of a shark being slapped with a wet sock. Finn knew that was a weird metaphor, but moving on! Hux was basically the devil. And Finn wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

He silently told the ceiling that he had been _kidding_ when he’d begged for a promotion five minutes ago. Killing himself on the front lines was the _last_ kind of promotion he wanted. Suddenly, the life of a soldier held absolutely no glamor at all.

And that was when Finn made up his mind. He dodged a dude who was clearly about to hurl-- “Seriously?” He shoved the puking dude into a stall. “The toilet’s _right there!”_

He heard the dude miss anyway.

He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and silently proclaimed, ‘Whatever. It’s not my problem.’ He made his way back to his quarters, changed into his most civilian-like clothes, and, hands sweating heart pounding getting dizzy _shit_ , he snuck out into the hallway.

He was doing this.

He was _really_ doing this.

If he got caught, this was treason.

Right. Treason. Better not think about that.

Finn hugged the wall, eyes wide, senses on high alert for anybody and everybody moving through the castle. Every time he so much as heard a scuff, he ducked into the shadows, gripping the wall with both hands.

But the few people who did pass by didn’t seem to notice he was standing there tensely hugging the wall, much less care.

He thanked their desensitized apathy because finally, _finally,_ he was home-free. He kept low to the ground and dodged his way across the courtyard. The shadows were his friend. That tiger over there? -Phasma? -Was _not_ his friend. He gave her a _very_ wide berth. The whiny prince’s pet would either rat him out or kill him. Finn didn’t like either of those outcomes.

He nearly had a heart attack when the tiger raised her sleek body from where she’d been seemingly sleeping on the ground and padded predatorily towards him, yellow eyes glowing like twin orbs, reflecting ominous green moonlight.

“Phasma,” an almost-familiar voice said quietly, “shhhh!”

Finn whipped his head to the side. A man in an awful blond wig and dorky glasses and ridiculous orange overalls was shushing the tiger like it was no big deal.

Whatever. That guy could be tiger bait. Finn made his way towards the wall.

Phasma growled at him.

Oh shit. Oh shitshitshitshitshit--

“Phasma!” the other dude whispered sharply.

Finn glanced over his shoulder. The tiger was gaining on him.

That was when the other dude noticed him. Surprise registered on his face, but fluttered away quickly into a look of I-don’t-give-a-fuck. “Go!” he urged, waving Finn on, “Climb up the wall!”

Finn didn’t look back. He climbed up that damn wall with every bit of extra speed the adrenalin was giving him. He dimly registered the other dude quietly talking to the tiger, and the tiger was making tiger noises like they were having an actual conversation, but Finn really didn’t care. Let that weird dude do his thing. Finn was _free._

*

Finn was _hungry._ He’d woken up confused and sore on the floor of an alley, surrounded by trash and dirty laundry, with no memory of how he’d gotten there. A rat scuffled nearby, causing him to jump to his feet, stumble, and crash into the brick wall, which he’d thought was a person, and he’d spun quickly to either apologize or run, only to realize he was alone and _not_ about to be captured or yelled at by some disgruntled citizen, so he let out several breaths between pursed lips, sweating, fists clenched, and calmed himself down until he didn’t look crazy. “C’mon. C’mon, man, you can do this. Stay calm. Gotta stay calm.”

“This your first time?” said a voice out of _nowhere_ that caused Finn to flail backwards into a trash can. He stared wide-eyed at the casual, suave man sauntering into the alley with a crooked smile and his hands held up placatingly. “Hey, I’ve been there too. But you’re not gonna blend in if you’re so high-strung.” His smile was crooked, his teeth white with an appealing gap in the middle, his stubble-shaded jaw square and handsome, and Finn was just starting to feel bad about thinking that when he met the deepest, brownest pair of dark-heavenly-lash-framed bedroom eyes he’d ever seen.

“Who are you?” he blurted out stupidly.

The man’s crooked smile grew. “Name’s Poe. And you?”

“Finn.” He realized belatedly that it may not be a good idea to share his name with random strangers. But those damn eyes could probably make him recite his entire lineage and every bit of information he knew about anything, ever. He needed to be careful. Very careful.

“Finn,” the man repeated in his velvet-smooth voice. He bit his lower lip. “Nice name.”

Finn’s brain turned into white noise.

Poe held out his hand to help Finn climb out of the trash pile he’d fallen into. Finn reached out, and then he was being yanked smoothly to his feet, and they were almost nose-to-nose, and Poe’s eyes were nearly crossed because their faces were so close, but for some reason that wasn’t as funny as it otherwise would have been. It just made Finn lick his lips.

“Uh,” Finn started, with no idea what he was going to say. “I, uh. Don’t… have a spare change of clothes.”

“We’ll get you some,” Poe promised. He glanced at Finn’s mouth, clapped him on the arm, and pulled his hand as though to release Finn’s, albeit reluctantly, but Finn held on. Poe shot him an amused, questioning look.

“It helps,” Finn said. _With my nerves._

Poe’s brown, chocolate-caramel-coffee eyes softened and _god_ his smile was gorgeous. “I’ll need both hands,” he said suggestively, “for what I’m doing.”

Finn blushed and let go.

“Follow me,” Poe said.

There was absolutely no thought that went into Finn’s decision to follow him. He trailed closely behind, observing the stretch of the brown-and-orange material of Poe’s jacket across his broad, welcoming shoulders, the easy way those long legs bounced and swaggered, the fluid way he moved, the casual ease with which his dark hair was swept back, somehow looking at-ease and sophisticated at the same time. It barely even registered that Poe was talking to him.

“What?”

Poe arched an eyebrow. A perfectly shaped, dark eyebrow. “I said, you might want to hang back and just watch me this time.”

Right. Watching Poe. No problem there. “Got it.” Finn nodded in agreement.

Poe indicated Finn should stay put. He backed away a couple steps to make sure Finn wasn’t moving, then turned around and strolled towards a booth. He leaned over the counter, engaging the merchant in conversation. The merchant was clearly charmed. And who wouldn’t be? The look Poe had on his face was enough to send a spike of jealousy through Finn’s stomach, which was stupid and _completely_ irrational, considering they’d just met. The way Poe was leaning against the counter, one leg crossed casually across the other, showcased the way his pants fit across his perfect, toned, very touchable-looking--

Finn _really_ needed to stop staring at that and pay attention. He was supposed to be _learning_ something here! He tried to study Poe’s technique, but all he could see was Poe chatting with the merchant as though genuinely engaged in conversation. His full attention seemed to be focused on the merchant. He smiled and laughed at all the right places, knitted his eyebrows in concern or sympathy in other places, and always, those warm brown eyes were completely focused on the merchant.

He wasn’t even sure Poe had _done_ anything when Poe ended the conversation, gave a slightly prolonged goodbye that Finn was absolutely _not_ jealous of, reintegrated into the crowd, and approached Finn from a roundabout angle. Poe had pressed a fig into Finn’s hand before he even realized what had happened. “Put that in your pocket,” Poe said distractingly close to Finn’s ear before backing off and strolling on as though nothing had happened. Finn was no more conscious of putting the fig in his pocket than he was of taking his hand back out of his pocket. All he knew was he was following Poe again.

“How did you _do_ that?” he asked once he’d caught up.

Poe smirked. “Misdirection,” he said, looking straight ahead.

And Finn knew, in that moment, that he would never make it as a thief.

*

Finn didn’t know how he did it- no, he seriously had no idea _how_ he did it- but by the end of the day, Poe had procured for him a new set of clothes, a jacket he’d said he fancied, and enough food to last him three days. Finn probably would have learned more about the art of thieving if he’d spent less time admiring Poe’s physique (and his smile and his voice and his hair and his-- everything), and more time actually paying attention to what he did (besides the way he leaned against the counters, the way he smiled at people, and the way he seemed to make everyone believe that for however long he was talking to them, that they were the center of his world).

“That should help, for now, right?” Poe asked, giving him that full-focus bedroom-eyes treatment which for some reason Finn had come to believe was genuine.

“Yeah,” he answered without thinking.

“Good.” Poe clasped his shoulder and didn’t let go. His glance slid askance. He bit his lip. “...I guess this is where we say goodbye.”

“I guess,” Finn said, a tight pit sinking in his stomach, reluctance coloring his tone.

Poe let out a self-deprecating little “heh”, smiled ruefully, and met Finn’s eyes. “I’m almost afraid to leave you alone.”

“Then don’t.”

Something like surprise sparked in Poe’s eyes before they shuttered, purposely hiding his emotions as he scanned Finn’s face.

“You said it yourself,” Finn pressed, “I won’t survive one minute out there by myself. I need…”

“You need a guide.”

“I need a guide.”

Poe smiled. Humor sprawled across his face. He bit his lip again and jostled Finn’s shoulder. “You’ve got yourself a guide.”

* * *

Kylo Ren cursed himself for not being able to stay away from the girl. He really ought to be stronger than this. She was a poisonous obsession infecting his every waking thought. He’d thought perhaps spending time with her, nursing this sick obsession, would erase the aching need from his chest, but every time she looked at him, every time he saw that dimpled smile, his stomach fluttered and his heart tripped and he realized with dizzying clarity that he was _happy._

Sneaking out of the castle had ceased being about donning the guise of Matt, the radar technician, and had instead become all about finding Rey.

And here she was, knee bumping against his own, pointing out what stars she could see past the light pollution of the city. They were sitting on the remains of a broken couch, near the top of the tallest pile of rubble in the junkyard, and the haze from the city was admittedly disgusting- a greenish-yellowish fog hovering over the buildings- but the way Rey told the stories behind her favorite constellations, the orangey-purpley sky and the greenish-yellow haze almost became a strange kind of beautiful. He had admittedly lost track of whatever story Rey was telling and was instead watching the way her animated features lit with excitement, the way her hands gestured for emphasis, and although he didn’t absorb a single word, he found the cadence of her voice hypnotic.

“What are _your_ favorite stars?” Rey asked, slightly apologetic at having gone on for so long.

Matt blinked behind those large teardrop glasses. “Um.” His brows creased over his large nose. “I don’t have any.”

“Not even _one_ favorite star.”

He shrugged, fussing with the apple between his hands, which he had long forgotten he was holding. It was a subconscious thing, turning it over and over, tossing it from one hand to the other.

Rey rolled her eyes. “What is _with_ you tonight? You’ve been _really_ quiet!”

He glanced at her and shrugged again. How could he possibly explain the myriad of thoughts tumbling through his mind? The girl would never understand.

Rey faltered. “Am I boring you?”

There was enough of an edge of fear there that he felt the immediate need to soothe her. “No,” he answered quickly, voice firm, but soft. The apple stilled between his hands. His eyes locked on her pretty face. He didn’t understand why Rey always so quickly agreed to spend time with him. His opinion of himself fluctuated so wildly depending on whether he was Kylo Ren, or Matt, or around her, Ben… but only sort of. He could never truly be himself around anybody. It was exhausting. And he could never, ever explain to anybody just why that was.

“Then what is it?” She leaned towards him with concern.

He had to look away.

“You can tell me,” she said softly, pressing her shoulder against his deltoid, her thigh innocently aligning with the side of his own, her body heat reaching through his overalls.

“No,” he said, turning his face farther away. “I can’t.”

She was examining the back of his neck. He could feel it. His skin prickled under her glance like grass reaching towards the sunlight. “...Is it about me?”

She couldn’t have been more wrong. “No,” he said too sharply. He felt her recoil. He fought the urge to look at her, to check if she was okay. “...It’s about _me._ ”

Rey was silent for a moment. He felt her warm presence leaning closer. “Whatever it is,” she said in what was probably meant to be a reassuring voice, but only sent his guts squirming, “it can’t be that bad.”

“It’s worse than you think.” He stood. The evening felt ruined, and it was all his fault. _Good,_ he thought bitterly, _perhaps she’ll never want to see me again._ The mere thought sent a jagged twist through his innards.

“Ben,” she chastised in a voice so much like his mother’s.

“I can’t.” He needed to get away. He needed to get very far away from this girl, before he did something stupid. He’d probably already done too much.

“Ben!” she called after him, equal parts betrayed and exasperated. But he didn’t slow. He picked his way back down through the junk pile, ignored her pursuit, and used his long legs to his advantage as soon as he reached the ground. He sprinted to the exit.

* * *

It was very dark outside when Rey returned to her and Poe’s makeshift apartment. The building had rotted to the point of condemnation, but the city lacked the funds to knock it down. She and Poe were far from being the only tenants. There was no electricity, and no running water, and there were holes in the walls and the roof which were badly patched with duct tape and fabric, but she had a special soft spot in her heart for the old ramshackle building. It wasn’t much, but it was home.

She slid off her shoes with relief, stretched her toes, and wondered for the thousandth time what she’d done wrong. Everything had been going so well until she’d asked Ben what was bothering him. Was it wrong to ask? Rey didn’t think it was wrong to be concerned about a dear friend when something seemed to be eating at them. He’d seemed upset the whole day, come to think of it, and he was staring at her more than usual, which was saying something. She didn’t mind the staring, honestly. It was part of his awkward charm. He seemed like he was never quite sure how to interact with people. She couldn’t place a finger on why, but for whatever reason, she found that endearing.

Perhaps she was endeared by the wrong qualities.

Rey was still kicking herself mentally when she entered her bedroom. She had taken only a few steps inside when the hairs on her arms prickled and it struck her that the room was too silent. She paused.

Someone else was in the room.

Rey padded as silently as she could towards her closet, keeping her back to the wall. She couldn’t see a damn thing, because it was so dark outside, and she hadn’t bothered to flick on a flashlight or light the candle on her dresser. She was thankful for that. It gave her an advantage.

She grabbed the double-ended staff from her closet, quieted her vitals, and focused intensely on the room around her. _There._ Rey advanced lightning-quick towards the center of the room, her staff raised above her head, ready to strike, when suddenly an unfamiliar voice called out “WHOA!” and a flashlight shone in her face. Her vision abruptly whited out, dancing with spots.

She tightened her grip on her staff, gritting her teeth. “Who are you and what are you doing in my bed!”

“Easy, easy,” came Poe’s familiar voice, also from the direction of her bed. The flashlight was lowered. Rey’s vision slowly came back. She couldn’t see well, but she could see that Poe’s muscular arm was draped around the arm of a young man, who was still gripping the flashlight too tightly and staring at her like he could somehow attack her with it- which was absolutely absurd, by the way- and Poe’s hand encompassed the man’s wrist in a way that was far too intimate. It was then that Rey realized Poe’s body was naked at least from the waist up, and he was spooning the young man, who was _also_ apparently naked from at least the waist up.

Poe was murmuring something reassuring to the young man, and sprinkling kisses along the back of his shoulder, when Rey dropped her staff to her side and exclaimed, _“Really?_ In _my_ bed?!” She knocked Poe over the head with her staff, just hard enough to sting. “You have your _own_ bedroom!”

“This one was closer,” Poe protested, rubbing at the spot she’d just whacked. His eyes were bleary with sleep.

Rey rolled her eyes dramatically. This was _really_ not her night. “Whatever. I’ll just grab my things and sleep in the cave.”

“No, Rey, we can move,” Poe was saying reluctantly. He was half-sitting, and _definitely_ naked. The blanket not-quite-covering his thigh proved that.

Rey bent to gather a change of clothes from her floor, her back turned to them. “It’s fine,” she snapped coldly. She was in no mood to deal with anyone else tonight. The prospect of sleeping alone was actually a relief.

“...You sure?” Poe asked. She heard him settle back against the pillows.

“Perfectly.” Rey shoved her things into her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “And you’d better wash my sheets tomorrow. First thing,” she added in the doorway. She didn’t wait for his response.

The streets were clear, this time of night. And even if they hadn’t been, Rey suspected she would have been given a wide berth what with her double-ended staff and the death glare she couldn’t erase from her face. Her staff clacked against the ground with every other step, punctuating her pace. Really, men were so _stupid!_ They were all selfish, and self-assured, self-centered--! To hell with the lot of them!

A dog dared to growl at her from an alley. She pointed her staff at him and growled back. The dog seemed taken aback and backed away with its teeth bared. “Do _not_ mess with me tonight,” Rey warned venomously. She shook her staff threateningly at him. The dog sat down and averted its gaze.

Other than that, her journey to her cave was undisturbed. And lucky for all those who didn’t disturb her. She was done with today. Utterly _done._

Rey threw herself onto her run-down couch and attempted to sleep. But she was too angry. And she couldn’t stop the incessant flashes of dyed-blond hair and conflicted eyes. “Argh!” Rey gripped the sides of her forehead, frustrated. This was doing no good.

She got off her couch, turned on a light, and squatted in front of her most recent project. She’d recovered the old R2 unit from the junkyard, near the bottom of a pile. It had been beeping feebly, its red light glowing. These were the only signs of life.

Ever since she’d found it, she’d been tinkering with it and trying to get it to do something else. Anything else. But the droid was, for all intents and purposes, useless.

Still. Rey was nothing if not determined. And technologically inclined.

She took out a wrench and loosened a bolt.

It had been nearly a week ago that she’d found it. The day after she’d (stupidly) invited Matt/ Ben back to her workshop. Which she should _never_ have done.

And in that time, the R2 unit had only succeeded in frustrating her. Something seemed to be jammed into a slot which it oughtn’t to be jammed into, but if she was right, that was simply a video projector, and shouldn’t affect the overall capabilities of the R2 unit. And yet here it sat, blinking steadily, emitting the occasional quiet ‘beep.’

Rey unscrewed the cap at its top and looked into its ‘brain’ once more.

The unit was outdated, to be sure. It was at _least_ fifty years old. But there was still life in it, and its innards were in surprisingly good condition. Nothing needed replacing. Nothing was rusted or out of place. Everything seemed to be in working order.

Rey had heard that sometimes, droids would cease functioning once their masters died, but she had always considered that to be a silly rumor. Yes, droids were loyal and known to form attachments, but it seemed a gross oversight to design a machine that would stop functioning simply because it was _sad._

Soft grey light had crept into the sky by the time Rey discarded her tools and gave up for the night. The old R2 unit was just as useless as it was stubborn. It had become clear that she was going to get nowhere, at least for the night. And Rey was tired.

She curled up on her sofa once more, facing away from the soft morning sunlight. She faintly remembered her cheek was resting where Ben had sat. This, coupled with the steady beeping of the R2 unit, lulled her to sleep.

*

Just when Rey was starting to think her week was a total bust, she overheard some black market lowlives squabbling over the prices of scrap metal. As she rounded the corner, it became apparent the metal they were pricing belonged to a short, circular droid. “Oi!” she yelled. All four of them turned abruptly to look at her. She strode towards them with confidence. “I’ll take that off your hands.”

One hooded figure glanced at another. They all had fabric pulled over every part of their face except their eyes. “You think you can pay for it, girl?”

Rey notched her chin up. “Fifty pieces of silver.” The price was too low and she knew it.

Another hooded figure scoffed. “Don’t waste our time.”

“Fifty-five.”

A third hooded figure eyed her in condescending disbelief. “Its head alone is worth seven times that.”

“Sixty.”

“Now listen here, you…” said the fourth.

“Sixty-five, and that’s my final offer.”

“You’re not getting the droid.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that.”

Rey twisted the short stick in her right hand, activating her double-sided staff. The four lowlives barely had time to react before she was flying at them in a blur, bouncing off the sides of the alley, knocking them in the knees and over the head one by one until they lay in a crumpled heap around the frantically beeping droid, which had been rolling back and forth to avoid the falling bodies, and was now beeping frantically at Rey.

“Well, come on, then!” Rey urged the droid. She nodded her head, indicating the droid should follow. To herself, she added, “Let’s get you somewhere that’ll buy you _whole_.”

The BB unit rolled after her, beeping all sorts of panicky and distraught things about the situation it’s been in, but Rey was very rusty on her droid-speak and only understood parts of it. She shushed the BB unit before they entered the main street. “Don’t draw attention to yourself!” she ordered.

Fortunately, the BB unit obeyed.

Rey scanned the merchant booths, and the alleyways, for a promising-looking deal. She intended to get a high price for this droid, _much_ higher than the sum of its parts. A whole droid in mint condition was hard to come by. She had truly lucked out today.

She was considering one booth in particular when the BB unit abruptly rolled in front of her and beeped loudly. “What!” Rey said in exasperation. “What is it?”

The BB unit repeated its pattern of beeps, turned its head, faced Rey again, and rolled into her legs, pushing her backwards until she was forced to back into an alley. “Hey!” Rey protested, following the BB unit’s prodding despite herself.

The crowd on the sunlit street fell eerily silent. Rey and the BB unit fell silent as well. Instinctively, Rey hugged the wall and kept to the shadows. The BB unit hid behind her legs, peering out over her knee. The crowd parted.

Through its center marched a formation of men dressed in black, led by the abominable masked prince, Kylo Ren. He stopped in front of one of the electronics booths and questioned the man behind it about a droid.

Rey’s heart rate accelerated in her throat.

The merchant babbled about droids he’d seen recently, increasingly nervous as Kylo Ren loomed closer. Kylo Ren’s hand closed around the man’s neck and hoisted him against a brick wall until his feet dangled above the ground. The man gripped Kylo Ren’s hand with both his own, eyes bulging. “I _swear!_ I ain’t seen no BB-8 unit!”

Rey’s heart pounded harder and time seemed to slow. Dizzy, she slowly turned to check the number on the BB unit half-hidden behind her legs.

They needed to run.

Kylo Ren dropped the merchant to the ground with a disapproving scoff. He turned threateningly towards the next-closest electronics booth, the very one Rey had been considering just moments ago. He repeated his question about the droid.

Rey glanced around the alley. High walls, relatively smooth, no clothes lines. Buildings on three sides. The only way out was back onto the main street.

“Don’t lie to me,” Kylo Ren was saying to the merchant, his hand gripping the merchant’s neck. Their heads were very close together, the merchant’s forehead nearly touching Kylo Ren’s mask. “I know you’ve seen it.”

His low, distorted voice sent chills up and down Rey’s spine.

The merchant insisted he hadn’t seen a BB unit, much less a BB-8. The merchant’s traitorous eyes flickered to the alley where Rey was crouching.

_Shit._

Kylo Ren’s head turned slowly in her direction. His hand fell from the merchant’s throat.

Rey raced through calculations about whether she could dart into the crowd and still disappear before he realized she was hiding the BB-8 unit.

It was too late. Kylo Ren was advancing towards her in nightmarish slowness, cloak furling behind him, and Rey was apparently frozen in fear.

“The BB-8 unit,” he said. “You have it.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Rey said with confidence she did not feel.

“Don’t play coy.” He snapped his fingers near his shoulder, and several soldiers closed in around her and the terrified BB-8 unit. One of them tazed the BB-8 unit with a neutralizing gun. The BB-8 unit squealed, crackling with lightning, and fell over.

Rey backed against the wall, tears springing to her eyes. She knew even _she_ couldn’t take down this many First Order soldiers at once.

“Are you its owner?” Kylo Ren asked, standing less than an arm’s length away from her.

“I-- I’ve never seen it before.” Rey’s throat was very dry. It hurt to speak. Her tongue felt like sandpaper. She swallowed.

“Liar,” Kylo Ren stated.

Everything went black.

*

Rey woke in a cold stone room. Whatever she was lying on was hard. She turned her head to the side and observed that whatever she was lying on was made of wood. She tried to move. She couldn’t. Her arms and legs were strapped down.

“You’re awake,” greeted a cool, distorted voice, too low to be natural.

Rey’s head snapped in the direction of the voice. Kylo Ren was sitting on a chair, casual and at-ease, bent over towards her, his arms crossed over his knees.

Rey glared at him. She had no idea what she was in for, but it was _not_ good. “Why have you brought me here?”

“You know why.”

“I _told_ you,” Rey said through gritted teeth. “I’ve never seen the droid before!”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m _not lying!”_

Kylo Ren stood. He loomed towards her. “Then why are you so afraid?”

“Oh, I don’t know!” Rey retorted. “Maybe because I’ve been dragged to a dungeon, strapped to some medieval torture device, and now I’m being interrogated by a monster in a mask!”

Kylo Ren flinched. His gloved hands formed tight fists. “Nonsense,” he said, voice unstable. “You’re my guest.” He gestured expansively to the room around them.

Rey barked a bitter laugh. “If this is how you treat your _guests,_ I’d _hate_ to see how you treat your _enemies._ ”

“Enough snark.” Kylo Ren’s distorted voice lashed at her. “Tell me about the droid.”

“I _told_ you. I know _nothing!”_

Kylo Ren leaned over her, aggression rolling off of him in waves. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t!”

Hesitation flickered through his body. “Where did you get the droid.”

“It’s none of your business!”

_“Where_ did you get the droid!” Kylo Ren repeated, nearly touching her nose with his mask.

“It’s _none_ of your _business!”_

Tension rolled through him.

Abruptly, he straightened. “This is your last chance. _Where_ ,” he repeated slowly, emphasizing every word, “did you _get_ the _droid._ ”

“I _found_ it!” Rey answered, exasperated.

Kylo Ren flexed his fists. He stared at her for a moment, seeming to make up his mind. Then, abruptly, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

Rey clenched her own hands into fists, teeth gritted, breathing heavily. She wasn’t sure why he’d left, but it was safe to presume that it was nothing good. She had no idea how long he’d leave her alone, or what sort of torture device he’d be accompanied with when he came back. The seconds stretched on like years. Sweat dripped down her temple. Every little sound set her heart racing. The conclusions she jumped to became more and more absurd, ranging from the irrational worry that they’d dug up her criminal record, to the even more irrational worry that they’d captured Poe. And the longer the seconds dragged by, the less irrational these worries seemed.

Finally, she heard footsteps. The door closing behind her. The twisting of a lock. Something hard hit the floor. “No!” a familiar voice said. “Don’t make me do it!” The voice was oddly flat. Odd scuffling noises shifted behind her.

Rey craned her neck, her gut cold. “Ben?”

She heard grunts. Pained noises.

Ben was roughly shoved by unseen hands, his wrists handcuffed behind his back. His eyes were wide and worried, his glasses slightly askew. He was sweating. “Rey,” he said with oddly intense relief.

“Ben!” Rey’s hackles rose. She glared in his direction, but not at him. At the concept of what they’d _done_ to him. “What are you doing here?”

“They got me, too, Rey,” he said, but something was off about his voice. “Kylo Ren said he wants me to ask you about the droid.”

“That absolute _jerk!”_

In his oddly flat voice, he continued, “He said if you don’t tell me, they’re gonna kill me.” Ben’s expressive eyes looked halfway between intense and resigned.

“What!”

Ben shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t know why he wants it so bad,” he said in that weird monotone. “Maybe you should just tell me.”

“Why would he _kill_ you! Does he _really_ have _that_ little respect for human life!”

“You really shouldn’t mess with Kylo Ren,” he warned. “That guy is badass. He will fuck you up.” The warning was also weirdly flat and monotone.

“Evidently!” Rey agreed, appalled by the monster that was Kylo Ren. Her emotions flipped to concern. “Did he hurt you?”

Ben shrugged one shoulder half-heartedly, looking down. “He beat me up a little. He was holding back, though. I could tell. He’s probably a master of martial arts.”

Rey laughed incredulously. “Hardly! Have you _seen_ him? He looks like he weighs thirty pounds soaking wet!”

Ben prickled. “One of the guards said he saw Kylo Ren take off his shirt in the shower, and he said Kylo Ren has an eight pack. That Kylo Ren is _shredded._ ”

Rey snorted. “That guard is a liar.”

“How do _you_ know!”

Rey wrinkled her face incredulously. “Why do you _care?”_

Ben’s eyes widened. His mouth clamped shut. His glance skittered to the side, and a weird conflicted parade of emotions twisted across his face like a kaleidoscope. “...Anyway, what do you know about the droid?” he asked in that weird monotone again.

Rey rolled her eyes. Something about Ben was _really_ not making sense. “I don’t know anything! I was just out, scouting for merchants, when this BB-8 unit came out of nowhere and started following me!”

Ben shook his head, brow furrowed. “No… droids are very loyal to their masters. The droid wouldn’t have just followed you, unless it thought you were its master.”

Rey huffed. “Maybe it did!”

Ben scrutinized her face. “Why would the droid think _you_ were its master?”

“Maybe we look alike!” Rey suggested, exasperated.

Ben considered this. “...Maybe.” His gaze was intent, focused, and something else was simmering below the surface. It struck Rey that it didn’t really seem like Ben was doing this against his will.

He must have seen the transformation on her face. He stood. “I’m gonna go tell Kylo Ren.”

“Wait!”

Ben paused. He looked almost guilty.

There was no more denying it. Certainty had settled into her gut. “You’re not really captured, are you.” She swallowed. “You work for Kylo Ren.”

“...I’m sorry.”

Rey closed her eyes.

Ben silently walked away.

* * *

Kylo Ren sulked into the room, shoulders slumped, an aura of gloom practically clouding the atmosphere around him.

“You were able to get answers out of her, I trust?”

Kylo Ren turned to face his superior officer. “She knows nothing about the droid.”

Hux raised an eyebrow. His tone turned icy. “I highly doubt that.”

Kylo Ren’s hackles raised. “She knows _nothing,_ ” he spat. He seemed to gather himself, and firmly, he added, “She is to be released.”

This show of insubordination was nothing new. Kylo Ren had never fully respected his authority. Something about being _prince_ seemed to make Kylo Ren think he was _special._ In reality, he was just as much a pawn as his mother. But he was too prideful and dangerous to simply subvert. So Hux had played with him, given Kylo Ren the illusion of authority. Kylo Ren was in charge of the “Knights of Ren,” a sinister and boldly uniformed little army whose main mission was keeping peasants in line and attacking anyone who dared start a conflict with their kingdom.

But this army was tiny, compared to Hux’s fleet. Hux commanded ten times the manpower Kylo Ren did. But he did so covertly; his base was on the outskirts of the kingdom, in a long-abandoned area no one bothered to check. They trained day and night, learning every method of combat there was. Those who were too weak simply died. Their bodies were left to rot in the yard, a motivation for the rest of his soldiers not to be so weak.

His army had been gathering strength ever since King Han disappeared. Everyone who was anyone knew that King Han was only a figurehead, that it was Queen Leia who was really in charge. And he let everyone continue thinking that, because that made it _so_ much easier for him to take over the kingdom.

Some had caught on that Queen Leia was merely a figurehead, and most assumed that Kylo Ren was truly the one in charge. But all of them were fools, including Kylo Ren. Hux had been playing this chess game for nearly a decade now, and he was achingly close to a checkmate.

His cold, pale eyes tracked Kylo Ren as the masked figurehead whirled around, cape aflutter, and stormed out of the room. Let him have his petty revenge. Let Kylo Ren set the girl free, in yet another act in a long line of defiance. Let him think he was the one who held _real_ power.

Hux would track her down and find what she really knew.

It was only a matter of time.

“Follow the girl,” he instructed one of his underlings.

* * *

Their ramshackle apartment was fortunately empty when Rey arrived. No offense to whoever-Poe-was-sleeping-with-this-week, but she was _really_ not in the mood to make nice with anyone right now. She could have done with a hug from Poe, she supposed, as she packed her bag once more, but she could always get one later. She wouldn’t even have to ask; he gave them so freely.

Rey headed to the junkyard.

The sun was beating down extra-hot today. Heat waves rippled over the sun-soaked metal of the junkyard. Half of it hurt to touch.

Rey was dressed for the weather, though, and her hands were wrapped. She dug through the near-blinding piles as though she had a personal vendetta against them. Every piece of metal or machinery she set aside was roughly shoved into a sack. At one point, the sack ripped, and Rey cursed loudly. She checked her sack. The tear was diagonal, near the bottom. A long piece of wire was poking out. It was irksome, to be sure, but the sack would hold.

Once the sack was full, she absconded with her materials to her cave. She dumped out the sack, hastily patched it up with duct tape, and headed straight back out.

She worked to the point of exhaustion.

In her cave, she kept a small supply of food and water. She made use of that, in no mood to head out to the marketplace today. She crunched her apple loudly in the relative dark, sitting stubbornly on the opposite end of the couch. She didn’t want to sit where _he_ had sat, that traitor.

She’d _trusted_ him!

Rey couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid. Poe had been right; there was something off about him from the start. It was bad enough he’d lied about his _name._ But he’d lied about who he was, what he did--

Rey took a vengeful bite of her apple, biting too hard and cutting her lip in the process. She winced. She could taste blood mingling with the fruit.

She’d been so _stupid!_

It’s not like there hadn’t been signs. He _had_ told her she wouldn’t like the real him. He _had_ warned her. And he _had_ seemed honest when he’d said he put on the guise of Matt to escape the pressures of palace life. Perhaps he’d even been honest when he said he felt more himself when he was Matt than… well, when he was _not_ Matt.

Matt. What a _stupid_ name!

Rey crunched the rest of her apple with vengeance and threw the core down a cold stone hall. Let the rats have it. She’d probably trust their whiskery faces faster than she’d trust another man again.

For lack of anything else to do, she slipped the dust cover off the R2 unit in the corner, which was still blearily blinking away, and emitting the occasional quiet ‘beep.’ She’d given it a full charge before she’d been kidnapped. She checked the power level. It was still at 72%, plenty for it to be operating normally. There was really no reason for the R2 unit to be in low power mode.

“You must have had one hell of a master, if you’re putting up all this shit just because you’re _loyal_ to him!” Rey exclaimed, exasperated.

She kicked a wrench. It clattered loudly against a table leg.

“Why? Who are you loyal to? Am I not good enough? Is that it? Am I just not good enough for anything _positive_ to ever happen in my life? Is there just a colossal universal _joke_ that I’m the butt of, so that every time it seems like everything might work out for the best, _something_ happens, and I’m alone again? Hm? Is that why I haven’t seen my brother in two days? Is that why my parents left? ANSWER ME, YOU USELESS, STUPID-!” She kicked the droid, sobbing. The kick stung her toe. She grabbed at her injured foot, hopped around, off-balance, and collapsed in a ball on the ground, shaking with the force of her sobs.

The R2 unit blipped peacefully on, unaware of the emotional turmoil taking place right in front of it.

By the time Rey had quieted, the sun was low in the sky, casting a faint orange glow about her cave. She sniffled every few seconds, tear tracks drying on her face. She felt marginally bad for yelling at the droid. She also felt marginally guilty for being angry with Poe, who _always_ came back for her. _Always._ No matter what happened, or how bad things got, Poe had _always_ been there for her.

Rey sat up and wiped her eyes. Dust streaked across her face from her dirty hands. She felt the simple mud forming on her cheeks.

But she didn’t care. No one was there to see her. No one was there to mind.

She’d go back and sleep in the apartment again, maybe tonight. Perhaps she’d even meet whoever-Poe-was-sleeping-with properly this time, maybe even shake his hand and say hello, tell him her name.

Rey sniffled.

Yeah. That sounded like a good plan.

She pulled herself to her feet. The orange glow was dimming to a faint rose. The marketplace would be emptying out soon. She could travel home in peace.

Rey shamefacedly picked up the bag she’d packed for the night and slung it over her shoulder. With any luck, Poe had made it to his _own_ bed tonight, and her sheets had been washed and dried and were back on her bed, and her bedroom was warm and rosy and waiting for her.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled.

Something had set her senses on high alert.

Rey slowed her breathing, listening keenly for any hint of sound. She could hear rats scurrying about the sewer pipes, water dripping from a distant ceiling. She could hear the sand brushing against the wall outside.

A footstep.

Someone was outside.

It could be an animal, or the owner of the junkyard. Perhaps another scavenger, like herself. But this footstep was predatory, calculated.

Part of Rey wanted to stay put and defend her belongings; she had thousands of units’ worth of metal in here. But the stronger part of Rey urged her to flee.

As silently as she could, she retreated into the dark stone tunnel, keeping her eye on the front doorway for as long as she could, watching her home, careful not to turn her back on the potential threat.

Too late, she realized she wasn’t alone.

She didn’t have time to spin around and jab the man behind her in the face. He’d grabbed her waist and clamped a hand over her mouth, shouted “Clear,” covered her nose and mouth so that she couldn’t breathe, and although Rey struggled violently to escape his grasp, she weakened with the lack of oxygen. The last thing she saw was five or six armed men, dressed all in gray, militantly storming her cave and gesturing towards the droid.

* * *

“You did _what?”_ Kylo Ren roared, unsheathing his sword.

“We’ve recaptured the girl,” Hux repeated with cold authority. “And the R2 unit she was harboring, which once belonged to Luke Skywalker.”

Kylo Ren breathed heavily, clenching his sword with both hands.

Hux stared at him disdainfully. “The R2 unit, however, is not functioning properly. We suspect she may have damaged it. The _scavenger_ probably intended to cannibalize it for parts, and sell it on the black market. And even if this was _not_ her intention, we have _more_ than enough evidence to convict her of illegal activities severe enough to merit her execution.”

Kylo Ren charged at Hux with his sword. Hux blocked him easily, his own sword drawn faster than the blink of an eye. “I long suspected you had an _attachment_ to the girl,” Hux sneered. He blocked slash after angry slash, not the least intimidated by this amateur. “As such, _you_ would be the best candidate to extract information from her.”

Kylo Ren roared in fury and began thrusting his sword towards Hux’s vitals- neck, belly, heart, neck, face, a feint to the right, belly, chest. Hux blocked every thrust. A cold smile spread across his face. “Perhaps, if I’m feeling kind enough-” Hux spun and parried, easily distancing himself, and Kylo Ren charged right into his line of fire. Their swords clashed. “-I’ll let you be the last face she sees before she dies.”

Kylo Ren’s attacks turned vicious. He played dirty, aiming for hands and feet, feinting multiple times, using his momentum to his favor.

Finally, he was a worthy opponent.

Hux was enjoying the exercise.

It was getting a mite boring, though. “You do _care_ for the girl, don’t you?” Hux taunted. He suspected he already knew the answer.

“The girl means nothing to me,” Kylo Ren gritted, aiming another calculated swipe towards Hux’s legs.

“Is that why you’ve been sneaking out to see her every night?”

His barb hit home. Kylo Ren froze mid-battle, breath stilling. Hux sliced a punishing cut through Kylo Ren’s sleeve; his upper arm bled. “Don’t think I didn’t notice,” Hux said. “I mean _honestly._ Did you _really_ think a ratty wig and flat-lensed glasses were going to fool anyone?”

Kylo Ren was backing away, sword drawn up in bad defense.

“I have eyes _everywhere,_ Ben.” Hux knocked the sword easily out of Kylo Ren’s hand. It clattered across the floor.

Hux crossed the cobblestones between them, sheathing his sword with smug finality. “You would do best to remember that,” he finished.

Kylo Ren did nothing but kneel, and breathe heavily.

*

As expected, the girl was completely useless. She claimed over and over again to know nothing about the droids. Hux found it too large of a coincidence that this peasant would just _happen_ to find the two most important droids on the entire planet. He found it even less plausible that the person who found them could honestly know nothing about them. No, Hux was convinced the girl knew something. She would break. Eventually.

In the meantime, her restraints were tightened, and she was to be given no food or water unless he explicitly said so.

The prince seemed to have gotten it into his head that he was going to disobey Hux and get away with it. Hux had no qualms throwing him into a prison cell and donning that dreadful mask- which was thoroughly cleaned and disinfected first- and leading the First Order into the streets.

Rebel forces had grown too strong in the prince’s neglectful shadow. Hux intended to correct this mistake.

The soldiers of the First Order were quite stupid. They recognized no difference whatsoever in the man wearing the mask. It was the costume that was important. Which served Hux’s needs perfectly, because even if they _had_ voiced any suspicion or dissent, no one _dared_ disobey his orders.

He led the First Order on a bloody siege through the city, crashing in on several Rebel meetings, making an example of every Rebel leader. By morning, their bodies littered the streets. Taverns ran thick with their blood.

Hux could never be sure, of course, that he had eradicated _every_ Rebel threat-- the poisonous boil grew like a cancer under the kingdom’s skin-- but he had definitely caused enough alarm that the Rebel forces would be quiet for a while, for their numbers were greatly diminished.

He caught a nurse trying to help a wounded Rebel on the street. He killed both of them on sight. “Let this be a lesson to you!” he shouted to everyone within earshot. “No one is to aid the Rebels in any way! This kingdom is one of _respect_ and _obedience!_ You should _all_ bow to _me!”_ he commanded. His head swiveled as he sent an unseen glare at everyone around. “And if you do not, you will be executed on sight.”

Everyone in the street kneeled or bowed, albeit some did so hesitantly.

Hux sent another glare at all of them through the ghastly mask. Satisfaction surged through him. The peasants had fallen in line.

At least, for now.

Part of Hux almost looked forward to their next bloody uprising. There were few things more satisfying than his blade slicing through flesh and cutting the life out of rebels.

* * *

Poe was appalled the next morning when he ventured into the marketplace and found the streets running with blood. Finn paled at his side. They knew before Poe asked “What happened?” that the shaky answer from the stricken shopkeeper would be “The First Order…”

They’d done another raid last night.

Poe had been certain that the First Order had their attention focused elsewhere. For nearly a month now, there had been no raids. He and the other Rebels had hatched a glorious plan to reinstate Queen Leia to her rightful full force of power. They had merely needed to gather supplies; their plan was days away from reaching its first stage of fruition.

Poe kicked himself for being so preoccupied as not to notice. “I should have been there, Finn.”

“WHAT?!” Finn squawked. “If you’d been out here, you’d be _dead!”_

Poe shook his head sadly, frown grim. “I could have protected them. I should have been more alert, known the First Order was coming. We should have had scouts posted. I should have never let them relax…”

“You’re not the only leader! This is _not_ your fault!”

Poe’s mouth twisted in a sad, rueful smile. “But it _is,_ Finn. I let that monster Kylo Ren kill all these people.”

“You didn’t _let_ him! You didn’t _know!”_

“Because I was too focused on _you,_ ” Poe said quietly, meeting Finn’s big, beautiful brown eyes. No matter how many nights he stared in them, he swore he could always find a new constellation in Finn’s eyes, each star a new beacon of hope, carrying promises of the sweetest dreams.

Finn stared back at him, all firm determination and reassurance, so touchingly loyal Poe’s heart ached just looking at him. “Then if it’s anyone’s fault,” Finn countered, “it’s _mine. I’m_ the one distracting you.”

“You’re not a distraction.” Poe grabbed both sides of that beautiful, wonderful face and pulled him into a kiss.

Finn stiffened at first, but melted into the embrace, those lush, perfect lips melding against Poe’s like they were always meant to be there, his mouth like an embrace, an endless plush wonderland that Poe never tired of caressing with his tongue, delicious as his favorite food, but better, because it’s _Finn._

Poe never wanted to stop kissing him, but he had to pull away before he entirely lost track of the conversation. It still took him a moment to recover his words. Staring at Finn’s beautiful mouth didn’t help. He stared into those eyes instead. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Never blame yourself again.”

“I won’t,” Finn promised softly, adorably firm, and Poe _had_ to steal another kiss. It was quick, and Finn barely had time to kiss back, but oh, Poe would _never_ get tired of kissing Finn.

“Do you have any medical training?” Poe asked quietly, resting their foreheads together.

“Marginal. I’m very good at cleaning things up,” Finn offered honestly.

Poe loved how honest he was. Finn was so candid. He wore his heart on his sleeve. He always said what he meant. Poe pulled his forehead an inch away from Finn’s. “Can you help me tend the wounded?”

“I’ll do my best to try,” Finn promised. Sweet, earnest Finn.

Poe kissed him again.

He abruptly released Finn’s face from between his hands and announced to the nearest shop owner that he needed medical supplies. The shop owner didn’t even charge him. Poe promised to return the favor, in good faith.

*

Finn was far better at helping than he’d said he was. He was always ready with tape or gauze or antiseptic, whatever Poe needed. He didn’t flinch at helping Poe reset bones (although he did break out into a heavy sweat and wince once the bone popped into place, and said “I need a minute,” but he always came back). He paid close attention to everything Poe did, nodded when Poe was talking to him, and by the end of the day, Finn was bandaging people himself, and doing a _perfect_ job.

And every tavern owner seemed positively in love with Finn; he’d cleaned every blood-spattered floor to a spotless sheen, scrubbed every wall, every table, until every tavern in town was no doubt cleaner than when it had opened. They were given and offered so many free drinks that they could be drunk for the next month if they wanted to, and not have to spend a single cent.

Finn was handling everything so well. Poe knew the blood on his clothes was bothering him, knew Finn was squeamish, but still, brave, wonderful Finn was by his side all day, setting things right.

A few shop owners did warn Poe that anyone who helped the Rebels was an enemy of the empire, but Poe simply flashed them the tattoo on his upper arm, the crest of the Rebel forces. “I’m already a wanted man,” he told them with a charming smile, eyes more serious than usual, and continued on his way.

The sun had long set by the time Poe and Finn finished with the last tavern. Finn was obviously exhausted, even as he steadfastly mopped the floor. Poe grabbed a washcloth and set about scrubbing tables.

“You don’t have to do that,” Finn said. “I’ve got it.”

“There’s no one else to patch up,” Poe replied with the bittersweet twist of a smile. “May as well make myself useful.”

“You’ve been making yourself useful _all day,_ ” Finn argued, dipping the mop in the bucket and wringing it out. “You deserve a break. Really, it’s okay. I’ve got it.”

Poe shook his head. “You’ve been working all day, too. It’s the least I can do.” Poe scrubbed the dried blood off the table.

Finn gave him a look and continued mopping.

“Afraid I won’t do good enough?” Poe chided.

“No!” Finn objected, offended on Poe’s behalf. “It’s not that. It’s just… You look exhausted.” This was meant compassionately.

Poe’s chest ached. All he wanted to do was throw down the rag and wrap his arms around Finn all night, and never let go. He scrubbed the table harder, a soft smile sprawled across his face. “So do you,” he said just as kindly.

“Thank you so much for cleaning up,” the bartender said. “I tried earlier, but… there’s just _so_ much blood.” The bartender shuddered, pale. His boss had been one of those slain. There had been no survivors at this location.

“We’ve got it,” Poe assured him with a smile.

“Would you boys like anything?” the bartender offered. “Food? A beer? ...Whiskey?”

“Some food would be _great_ ,” Finn said.

The bartender nodded and disappeared through the door to the kitchen.

Finn and Poe finished cleaning about the same time the bartender emerged with a steaming tray full of food. “What do we owe you?” Finn asked, honest and earnest and oh so _good._

The bartender flinched in surprise, almost offended. “Nothing! This is on the house. And so is your beer. Or anything else you might want.”

“Just the food for now, thanks,” Finn said. Precious, wonderful Finn still felt guilty for accepting gifts. He seemed to think he owed the whole world something. Perhaps because he’d been trained from childhood to serve the First Order. Poe didn’t think he’d ever get over just how earnest and sincere Finn was, how honest. He’d make a terrible thief, but oh, he made a wonderful companion.

“And some water,” Poe added.

Finn eyed him with surprise. Poe smiled. They were both thirsty and he knew it, but Finn’s surprise that Poe hadn’t asked for expensive alcohol was equally touching and amusing; Finn had come to expect that Poe would milk people for all he possibly could. He got whatever he could for free.

The bartender bowed his head and parted to fetch them water while the two locked eyes across the table.

Poe arched an eyebrow. “What? You’re thirsty, aren’t you?”

“Well, _yeah,_ but. No whiskey? No wine?”

Poe’s smile crawled across his cheek, spreading wide with dear amusement. “I could, if you want some.”

“No!” Finn objected. “No. I’m just surprised. You’ve opened a tab at every tavern in town. Just wondering why you don’t have one at this one, too.”

“I do,” Poe said. “But as you can see, these things are easily forgiven, given the right circumstances.”

The bartender returned with their waters.

Finn waited for the bartender to leave before he leaned across the table and hissed, “It still isn’t right. Swindling people left and right.”

Poe shrugged. “If they offer, I’m not going to refuse.”

Finn ate cautiously. Poe ate slowly, giving Finn time for his hunger to overcome his morals. He subtly ensured that they both ate roughly half the food.

The bartender came to fetch their empty tray and asked them if there was anything else he could do for them tonight.

Poe answered for both of them. “No. Thank you.” He bowed his head graciously.

The bartender promised, just like every other tavern owner and bartender they had seen today, that they were welcome to a free drink of anything they wanted next time they returned.

Finn shook his head as they walked down the night-lit street. “How do you _do_ that?”

“Do what?” Poe asked, arm around Finn’s shoulders.

“Every bar we’ve been to, Poe. _Every_ bar has offered us free drinks. And I _know_ you owed at _least_ half of them money.”

Poe smiled crookedly. “Must be my charming face.”

“You’re not _that_ charming.”

“Oh?” Poe crooked an eyebrow. He crowded Finn against the side of a building. “Aren’t I?” he asked in a low voice, giving Finn his most sultry bedroom eyes and biting his lip in that way he _knew_ drove Finn crazy.

“Hey! Now _that’s_ not fair,” Finn objected, staring at Poe’s lip hungrily, then adorably trying to avert his eyes and hide his blush.

“What’s not fair?” Poe purred, knowing full well what Finn was referring to, but playing coy because it was fun. He brought the tip of his nose up next to Finn’s, barely touching, not quite kissing him, but only a moment away.

“You’re playing dirty,” Finn breathed.

“That’s how I like it.” Poe’s tongue darted out to tease Finn’s upper lip. He drew it back just as Finn’s lips parted. Poe smirked at him and drew back from the wall.

“Oh no you don’t.” Finn caught his wrist and pulled him back up against his chest, adorably firm and serious. “You’re not gonna just leave me hanging like that.” And he pulled Poe into a kiss that Poe positively _melted_ into. Really, Finn was the best kisser Poe had ever met.

Poe smiled adoringly up at Finn the moment Finn released him. “Let’s go home,” he said warmly.

He loved that Finn had come to think of his and Rey’s shared apartment as ‘home.’

*

It barely registered that Rey’s bedroom was empty once more. Her bed was neatly made, exactly as Finn had left it two days prior, the morning after Rey’s outburst, after Finn had painstakingly washed Rey’s sheets cleaner than Rey had ever had them. He had tucked the sheets perfectly against the mattress, fluffed her pillows, and arranged the bed so artfully, Poe joked that he’d feel bad about even _touching_ it. In all seriousness, the neatness and the sheer level of _care_ that had gone into making that bed were a deterrent enough to keep Poe from mussing up her bed, because this guilty twinge in his heart told him that perfect bed was for _Rey_ , and anyone else touching it would be unwelcome.

Poe had never cared about such things before he met Finn. Something in him had changed, shifted irrevocably, and Poe was at times surprised and almost annoyed by how _honest_ Finn made him want to be, but one glance at those big, earnest eyes, and every hint of negative feeling flew away and all he wanted was for Finn to be perfectly, deliriously happy, and for that happiness to be all Poe’s fault.

Neither of them had the energy to strip each other’s clothes off and make passionate love the moment they were inside, as they had done the previous nights; instead, they arrived at the apartment with relief, shed their dirty clothes, scrubbed their skin clean side-by-side at the wash basin, and dried off with a shared towel. Poe kissed Finn’s forehead and cheeks repeatedly, every chance he got. Finn surprised him by stealing a kiss from his mouth. He let the kiss remain chaste; a sweet, innocent flavor lingered there that Poe had never tasted until he met Finn.

Poe wrapped his arms around Finn and cradled his chin against Finn’s shoulder. Finn was well-built and muscular all over, but had this adorable slight cushion of fat that Poe could not get enough of. Finn was quite possibly the most adorable person in the world.

Finn’s arms wrapped around Poe and he held him close. Finn held him like he was something precious, like Poe was a priceless valuable, a good person. Finn made Poe want to be a good person. Finn made Poe want to strive to be the person Finn deserved. Because Finn- sweet, wonderful Finn- deserved the most loyal, kindhearted person in the world. He deserved someone every bit as amazing as he was.

Poe hoped that someday, he could be that person.

* * *

Rey was bleeding from several places. She was strapped to that damned wooden slab again, her arms and legs strapped down. Her stomach grumbled loudly. She hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours.

Cold footsteps approached her, the soles of her tormentor’s shoes clicking on the cobblestones. “Are you ready to talk?” asked that hateful voice through that hateful mask.

“I told you,” Rey said through gritted teeth, “I know _nothing._ ”

“We shall see.”

Kylo Ren stalked in front of her, holding up a knifelike device shaped like a small scythe. He ran a gloved finger along the blade.

“If you think you can intimidate me with that blade,” Rey said with exhausted defiance, “it’s not going to work. I told you, I know nothing.”

Kylo Ren loomed closer. “Did you hear the screams?”

Rey frowned. She had not been expecting this question. “What screams?”

“The screams of the fallen.” That black-gloved finger stroked back and forth across the crescent-shaped blade, back and forth. “Several hundred people died yesterday while _you_ were here, withholding information that could have saved them.” His gloved fingertip sang oddly along the blade. He leaned closer. “How many more must _die_ on your behalf?”

“I don’t know anything!” Rey insisted. She couldn’t tell if he was bluffing or not. It didn’t sound like he was bluffing.

Kylo Ren flicked the blade out suddenly towards her neck. It stopped just below her chin. If she lowered it, even a fraction of an inch, the blade would slice through. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I’ve told you over and over, I know _nothing!_ Why won’t you believe me?!”

Kylo Ren crowded into her space, smelling oddly icy. The sweaty-spice smell from before was gone. This registered dimly in the back of Rey’s mind as the deep, distorted voice said, “Because you _do_ know something, Rey Kenobi!”

Rey frowned at him oddly. Her features screwed up in confusion. “What??” A few things clicked into place. “Is _that_ what this is all about? You think I’m a _Kenobi??”_

“Do you deny it?” he pressed. The blade slid down her throat, grazing her skin.

“Of _course_ I deny it! I _have_ no last name, much less _Kenobi!_ I’m a _nobody!_ Why on _Earth_ would you think _I_ was a Kenobi?!”

“Because the droids belonged to _him._ ” The blade pressed harder against her neck, slicing a superficial wound just below her voicebox. “He owned those droids for _eighteen years_ after Anakin died. Obi-Wan was the only one Luke trusted.”

Rey swallowed. The blade cut deeper. “I didn’t know!” she gasped.

Kylo Ren chuckled darkly. “Oh, but you _do_ know _._ And make no mistake, _Kenobi,_ I _will_ have my answers.”

Abruptly he drew away, taking the blade with him.

“Give her no food or water,” he instructed on his way out. There was a smug tilt to his tone.

Tears sprang to Rey’s eyes as she stared at the ceiling. Blood trickled down her throat, the bead dipping down past her collarbone and running under her shirt. She was trapped in the torture chamber of a madman, and unless some miracle happened, there was no way out.

* * *

Hux swept down the dark dungeon hallway, each purposeful, economic step clacking closer to the cell holding the fallen prince. No one had noticed the switch behind Kylo Ren. Hux doubted anyone much _cared._ As long as there was someone wearing the mask, the devil known as Kylo Ren still haunted people’s nightmares. Hux was more than happy to provide them that demon.

The prince raised his dark curly head to level a glare at him. “You won’t succeed,” he vowed with certainty.

“But that’s the beauty of it,” Hux said, perverse pleasure coursing through him at the distortion provided by that mask. “I already have.”

The prince tightened his hands into fists, useless against the wall. “Don’t underestimate the Queen.”

Hux laughed. “The Queen?” he repeated incredulously. “You can’t honestly think her forces match even a _fraction_ of mine.”

“She’s clever,” he warned. “There’s a reason my father always deferred to her.”

And oh, Hux loved the _bitterness_ whenever the prince was forced to say ‘his _father._ ’ “Your father is dead,” Hux assured. “No one has heard from him in years. He’s never coming back.”

“She doesn’t need him to defeat you.”

The mere prospect was laughable. “She will be dead by morning.”

The prince glared daggers into Hux’s soul. Hux _almost_ found that funny. “And so will your precious little _girlfriend,_ ” Hux added, if only to rub salt into the wound.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” His eyes turned hard. “She means nothing to me.”

“Just as the droids mean nothing to her, I’m _sure,_ ” Hux sneered.

“She’s telling the _truth,_ ” the prince insisted.

“And how do you know?” Hux tilted his head. “Have your little _spying_ missions told you that? Tell me, how many nights did you follow her without her noticing? How many times did you trail after her like a pathetic little puppy dog, wearing that awful disguise?”

The prince flinched as though he’d been slapped. His soulful eyes bore guiltily into the ground.

Hux smirked. The prince’s silence was answer enough. “Why would you have chased after the girl if she wasn’t important?” he challenged. “Either you know something about her… or you were stupid enough to get _attached_ to that meager peasant.”

The prince snarled at him. Perhaps Hux would have even felt vaguely threatened, if the prince weren’t so heavily shackled to the wall.

As it was, the prince was harmless. Hux drew himself up to his full height. “It matters little, at this point. She will break soon. And _you_ will watch her _die._ ”

The dagger of his words sank in. Hux spun on his heel and walked away, satisfied that the prince was in suitable pain. He planned on killing the prince, too, of course, but first he wanted to watch the insufferable brat _squirm._

“Oh, and by the bye,” Hux added at the end of the hallway, not bothering to turn around, “We’ve heard some interesting news about her _brother._ Apparently, he’s been disobeying direct orders against the Empire.” He paused for effect. “He will, of course, be executed. Within full vision of _the girl._ ”

The prince’s outraged shout was cut short by the slamming of the dungeon door.

* * *

Poe was cuddling Finn on a sunlit bed when his senses went on full alert. He sat up, expression suddenly serious.

“What is it?” Finn asked with the grace to remain quiet.

“Put on your clothes,” Poe warned. He climbed out of bed with practiced silence.

Finn- bless his beautiful, wonderful soul- didn’t question Poe. He padded silently out of the bed and pulled on his clothes, eyes on Poe the whole time.

They heard low voices down the hall.

“Follow me,” Poe said very close to Finn’s ear, causing him to startle. His eyes were on the door.

Finn followed Poe to the window sill.

Poe barely had time to explain how they were going to escape via sliding across the neighbor’s clothes line when a sinister knock sounded on their door.

“Come on,” Poe urged, grabbing the nearest item of clothing on the clothes line.

Finn balked. “I can’t do this.”

The knock sounded louder.

“Of course you can!” Poe encouraged urgently.

The knock repeated one final time.

“Grab onto me.”

Finn grabbed onto Poe, arms around his neck, eyes wide, chest rising and falling with quick, panicked breaths.

Poe doubled the material draped over the clothes line, stood on the window sill, and launched himself across the alley just as the door to their bedroom burst open and First Order soldiers flooded inside. A clamor of shouts alerted their leader that Poe and Finn had slid across the alley and tumbled through the window opposite.

A half-dressed woman squeaked at them in alarm, covering her torso with a blanket.

Poe took half a moment to admire her luscious curves before he gave her a charming smile, said a quick flirtatious ‘hello’, and led Finn through her apartment towards her door; Finn apologized loudly the whole way, averting his gaze from her half-naked body.

Poe barely had time to let his heart flutter over Finn’s adorable _goodness_ before they were barging into someone else’s apartment, and Finn’s arms were around his neck again, and they were sliding across _another_ clothesline.

They made it nearly all the way to the ground this way, crossing several city blocks. Poe was fairly sure he’d shaken the Knights of Ren.

He and Finn slid down the last clothesline and dropped to the ground of a particularly clean alley, warmly lit with sunlight, and he and Finn landed with a laugh. Poe clapped Finn on the shoulder. Finn seemed surprised that they were still alive. They laughed, eyes sparkling at each other, dancing in a small, tight circle, congratulating each other on how amazing the other had been, and then they were edging closer, hands on each other’s faces, and then they were nearly forehead-to-forehead, half a breath away from another kiss, when shadows descended across the alley.

“Did you _really_ think you could escape from _me?”_ asked the hooded figure at the group’s center. He raised a hand and pointed one finger at the two of them.

Like rabid dogs, the Knights of Ren surrounded them.

Finn and Poe clung to each other, each ready to defend the other to the death.

Kylo Ren made a motion with his hand, indicating they should be knocked unconscious. “I want them alive.”

*

Poe woke in a prison cell screaming Finn’s name. His chains jangled against the wall.

“Poe!” Finn exclaimed with relief. They’d been chained side-by-side. “You’re alive!”

_“You’re_ alive!” Poe exclaimed in mutual relief. “Did they hurt you?”

“No. Did they hurt _you?”_

“Aside from this knot on my head, no.”

“Same.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, each checking the other over for injuries. Finding none, their eyes met. A spark of longing passed between them. Although side-by-side, they could not touch.

“I’m sorry you got captured because of me,” Poe said. He carried the full guilt that Finn’s precious head had been hurt, that his wrists were chained to that cold stone wall.

Finn shook his head. “I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.” A second later, he amended this. “All right, I’d _rather_ we hadn’t been captured, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you.”

Poe’s face split into a sappy smile. “You mean that?”

“Of _course_ I mean that!”

Poe’s eyes softened. He felt his smile spread. “I love you too.”

Finn’s eyes widened in surprise. “You--? I didn’t say-”

“I know,” Poe said, still smiling, “but I do.”

“Yeah,” Finn said, surprise softening into something else. “Yeah, I love you too.”

Poe gave Finn the sappiest smile he’d ever given someone in his entire life.

“If you’re done,” drawled a low, vaguely familiar voice from somewhere nearby, “perhaps you’d like to explain just _who_ you are and _how_ you ended up here?”

Poe frowned. “Matt?”

The voice chuckled darkly. “I guess so.”

“Matt!” Poe exclaimed. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“The same as you,” Matt drawled. “Chained to a wall.”

“But how did you _get_ here?”

“Captured,” came the short answer.

“But… _why?”_

“Enemy of the First Order,” he said with a heavy ironic twinge. “And you?”

“Same,” Poe agreed.

Finn was making some very interesting expressions as the conversation progressed.

“Where’s Rey?” Poe asked suddenly. He hadn’t seen her in three days, and if Matt was captured…

“Upstairs.” Matt did _not_ sound happy about this. “I’ve been trying to set her free, but Hux won’t listen to reason. He’s sure she’s the key to finding Luke Skywalker.”

“Luke!” Poe exclaimed with surprise. “Why would Rey know anything about Luke?”

“She found some droids,” Matt explained in that flat, low monotone.

“The droids everyone’s been looking for?”

“Yes,” Matt confirmed with bitter irony. _“Those_ droids.”

“Holy shit!” Poe was elated for a moment, then terrified, then enraged, then back to vengeful and protective. “They think she knows…”

“The way to Luke Skywalker,” Matt finished. “Because she found the droids. Yes.”

Poe frowned. “But Rey doesn’t…”

“I know.” Matt sounded frustrated and resigned. “I’ve been _trying_ to tell them, but Hux won’t listen.”

“We have to save her!”

“I’m all for that,” Matt agreed, “but how do we escape?”

“Way ahead of you.” Finn’s addition to the conversation was a huge surprise. But not as huge of a surprise as Finn slipping out of his handcuffs and picking open the locks on his ankles.

Poe stared at Finn with awed wonder. “How did you--?”

Finn held a single finger against those plush lips. He unlocked his shackles, freed his ankles, and made his way over to Poe. “Picked up all kinds of things before I left,” Finn said quietly as he worked open the shackles at Poe’s wrists.

“I’m going to kiss you _so_ hard,” Poe promised.

A door opened at the end of the hallway.

Finn’s eyes widened. He closed Poe’s shackle most of the way around his wrist, hurried back to his place against the wall, and closed his own shackles most of the way around his limbs as well. He held still against the wall and schooled his expression into one of angry defiance.

The footsteps paused just outside the cell next to theirs. “She never ceases to surprise me,” said a low, distorted voice which Poe immediately recognized as that of the masked menace, Kylo Ren. “Even knowing her brother is held captive, she _still_ reveals nothing.”

“That’s because she doesn’t _know_ anything,” Matt insisted, voice low and cold and- bless his heart- _protective._

Kylo Ren must have ignored this remark, because he went on as though Matt hadn’t spoken. “She has had neither food nor water for two days, she bleeds like a stuck pig, and _still_ she says nothing.” A footstep. He must be leaning against the bars of Matt’s cell. “I would congratulate you on your choice of mate, if she were not so _infuriating._ ”

“Don’t you _dare_ hurt her,” Matt threatened.

“Or what?” Kylo Ren taunted. “You’ll jangle your arms against the wall? Face it, Ben. You’re _helpless._ ”

Poe frowned. ‘Ben’? he mouthed at Finn.

Finn shook his head. He didn’t know, either.

Something jangled against the stones nearby. The jangling grew louder as Kylo Ren’s low, distorted voice laughed.

“I _thought_ so,” he said at last.

His shadow moved. Soon, he was standing in front of Poe and Finn’s cell. “I see you are awake,” he observed. “Then you have heard that your sister is near death, and soon, you shall be.” He turned his head slightly, the mask facing Finn. “And _you._ A traitor to your empire.” A brief pause. “You will be executed, as well.”

Poe had to fight very hard not to wrench his wrists away from the wall. They had to maintain the illusion that they were still chained. He snarled at Kylo Ren.

The low, distorted voice chuckled at this pathetic act of rebellion. “I’m sure Rey will crack, once she has nothing left to live for.”

“Fuck you!” Poe spat at him. His spit landed impotently on the floor of his cell.

“Pathetic rebel.” Kylo Ren leaned against the bars in a show of sudden anger. “Your regime has toppled. None of your rebel soldiers survive. Your efforts mean _nothing._ ” He waited only long enough for these words to hit their mark before he backed away from the cell, every movement a silent threat, drew himself to his full height, and walked away.

As soon as the door at the end of the hall closed, Finn pulled away from the wall and moved over in front of Poe. “I really hate that guy,” he said quietly, picking the lock on Poe’s other wrist.

Matt laughed weirdly in the other cell. “You have no idea.”

Poe’s wrists were both freed. He fought the strong urge to wrap them both around Finn. Finn knelt and unlocked Poe’s ankles. Poe rubbed his sore wrists. “Do you have a plan?” he asked Finn.

Finn glanced up at him in surprise and shook his head ‘no.’ “I thought _you_ did.”

Poe smirked. “I could improvise.”

“There’s no need,” Matt interjected from the other cell. “I do.”

_“You_ have a plan?” Poe asked. His ankles were free. He rubbed those as well. Finn glanced out into the hallway before working on the lock to their cell.

“Is that a problem?” Matt asked coldly.

“No, no,” Poe said lightly. “Just wondering who you are, is all. - _Ben,_ ” he added for effect.

Finn opened the door to their cell.

Poe took a moment to readjust to Matt’s appearance. Gone was the blond hair and the glasses, and the florescent orange overalls; in their place was a serious, almost regal-looking face, thick black hair, and head-to-toe black clothes. The expression on his face was only slightly altered; he still simmered with rage and pain.

Finn paused in front of Matt’s cell. Poe looked between Finn and Matt/Ben, trying to piece together Finn’s odd expression.

“Do I know you?” Finn asked.

Matt/Ben stared at him silently, sullen.

Finn’s expression cleared, like he’d put the pieces together. “I _have_ seen you before!” he realized. “You’re the guy that was sneaking out of the castle that one night! You talked to Phasma! -Holy shit! Why didn’t I realize that _before?_ You’re--”

“Are you going to help me or not?” Matt/Ben interjected impatiently.

Poe was staring at Finn with rapt curiosity.

“He’s-!” Finn gestured to Matt/Ben without explaining, something significant on his tongue which he clearly wasn’t saying. He looked back and forth between Poe and Matt/Ben, as though waiting for Poe to put the pieces together as well. But Poe was coming up blank. Finn’s expression changed and he shook his head, casting something aside. He stared very seriously into Matt/Ben’s eyes. “Are you willing to help Rey?”

“With my life,” Matt/Ben vowed.

Finn pulled open his cell door. “Good enough for me.”

* * *

There was no window in Rey’s cell. She had no idea how much time had passed. All she knew was that her tongue stung like sandpaper, her throat stuck to itself when she swallowed, and her stomach felt as though it were folding in on itself. Her intestines groaned loudly about her lack of food. Rey dearly wished she could eat or drink something, _anything-!_ Dozens of wounds bled, all over her body, some crusted over with scabs, others fresh and still dripping. She had been in the same position for two days. Her muscles ached. The room was cold.

The news of her brother’s capture had only served to frustrate her. She could never tell how much of what that monster said was truth, but she was fairly certain he wasn’t lying about that. Or perhaps it was her lack of sleep, or food, that was making her feel more easily defeated than usual. Perhaps it was easier for her to accept horrible things as fact.

A part of her had always known it was inevitable: Poe had been leading underground Rebel forces for as long as she could remember. He was very good at it. There wasn’t a single person she’d met that didn’t succumb to Poe’s charming gaze, his persuasive words. And given the current state of the Empire, it _really_ wasn’t hard to persuade people that things could be better.

Poe had always known he faced danger by rebelling against the government this way, and he’d made no secret of this to Rey. He had instructed her multiple times what to do if he was ever captured, and Rey had foolishly thought herself ready.

Except now, there was nothing she could do.

She would cry again if she had enough hydration left in her body for tears. As it was, her throat ached, and her eyes stung, and she drew in shaky breaths as she stared at that godforsaken ceiling. She never knew when that monster would return. He burst or stalked in at irregular intervals, at unpredictable levels of anger. The one thing she didn’t understand was why anyone would willingly follow him. She suspected he ruled through fear, rather than loyalty. Her brother’s rebel forces seemed all the more necessary to overthrow him, now that she’d actually _met_ the tyrant.

But of course, that wouldn’t happen. Kylo Ren had informed her smugly that he had slain most, if not all, of the Rebel forces, and now her brother was supposedly captured as well.

Footsteps approached her cell. Rey braced herself for the inevitable onslaught of stupid questions she’d already answered a hundred times. She was so _tired_ of telling him she didn’t know.

“Rey!” called an unfamiliar voice.

Rey turned her head. She couldn’t see the door; her slab faced the wall, and all she could see was damp stone walls. But she frowned, because this voice didn’t sound cruel.

Something clinked against the door. The air shifted as the door swung open.

Rey was tiredly trying to puzzle out who could have possibly come to her cell, who could have possibly called her name, when a vaguely familiar face appeared next to her, kind and full of concern. “Rey!” he repeated. “Is that you?”

Rey nodded weakly.

This seemed good enough for the guy, who nodded to himself and started picking the locks on her restraints.

“Who are you?” she croaked.

“Shh!” he urged. “The name’s Finn,” he said under his breath. “I’m gonna get you out of here.”

_Finn._ She didn’t know anyone named Finn. “How did you get here?” she slurred.

“Don’t worry about it.” He unlocked both her wrists and worked on the metal bars holding down her legs. “Can you walk?”

Rey considered this. After her legs were freed, she slid towards the floor and slumped. Her stomach grumbled. “Not fast,” she said. She tried to stand, dizzy. “Or well,” she added. She was so _weak._

“Okay.” Finn turned around and held out his hands oddly. “Climb on my back.”

Rey frowned at him. “‘m not _that_ weak.”

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Finn tensed. He flexed his hands urgently. “Just _do_ it!”

Rey grumbled internally. She could survive this indignation if it meant she’d get away from Kylo Ren.

Once her arms were wrapped securely around his neck, and he had secured his arms around her legs like stirrups, he hid next to the wall until the footsteps safely faded past. She could feel his pulse pounding in his neck, against her forearm. Her own pulse was weak.

Finn listened for another moment before springing away from the wall, his own footfalls surprisingly quiet against the cold damp stones. “I’m gonna get you out of here,” he promised, “but first I’ve gotta help your brother.”

“Poe?” Rey croaked.

“Yeah. Poe.” Finn snuck down the hallway, on high alert. He kept his voice very quiet. “He’s got this crazy idea about saving the Queen.”

“The Queen?” Rey frowned. “Is she okay?”

“She will be,” Finn promised. He paused in a dark corner. Footsteps faded down the other hallway. He waited for another second, assuring the hallway was silent, before he continued on.

Rey was just starting to get sleepy against Finn’s warm, soft back when he burst into the throne room. It took her a moment to make sense of what was happening. Several swordfights were taking place at once, mostly between the Knights of Ren and the Castle Guard- those loyal to Kylo Ren and those loyal to the Queen- and at the center of the room, three more swords were drawn. One was held by Kylo Ren, who was bearing down on the Queen, their swords locked, a defiant spark in her eye. She was surprisingly strong. Behind the Queen cowered a very surprised-looking man dressed all in black, with wavy black hair, one hand blocking most of his face in a defensive posture. Poe was holding the other sword. Rey didn’t think Poe _owne_ _d_ a sword.

“You will tire,” Kylo Ren said certainly, “and when you do, you _will_ draw your last breath.”

“Try to harm my son again,” the Queen warned, “and _you_ will draw _yours._ ” She broke their swordlock with a surprising burst of strength and advanced towards the masked menace.

Of all things, he seemed _amused._ “You still care about that _traitor,_ even after all he’s done to you?”

“I may not agree with everything he does,” the Queen said strongly, “but he is still my _son._ ”

“Believing in him till the last,” Kylo Ren scoffed. “How bullheaded.”

“Where do you think he gets it from?” she parried.

Poe handed a sword to the cowering black-haired man, who slowly lowered his hand from his face.

Rey gasped.

Their eyes locked.

His eyes widened. “Rey.”

“Ben?”

“You two _know_ each other?”

Ben didn’t have time to answer Finn’s question. One of the Knights of Ren was bearing down on Ben with his sword, and Ben had to spin to instinctively defend himself. “I have no wish to fight you,” he gritted.

“You’re a traitor to the empire,” the knight retorted. “I have no choice.”

Rey’s sluggish mind was reeling. The Queen had called him her _son._ That meant Ben was…! But she’d heard that the prince and Kylo Ren were one and the same. Had that rumor been wrong the whole time? Who _was_ he?

“Shit!” Finn exclaimed, dodging to the side to evade an errant swing of a sword. A Knight and a Guard were fighting only a few feet away. Finn sought the protection of a wall. He backed against it, shielding Rey as much as possible.

“Don’t you _dare_ get hurt!” Poe warned, picking up the sword of a fallen Guard and facing off a nearby Knight of Ren.

“Don’t _you!”_ Finn shouted back.

Poe focused on the fight.

Kylo Ren’s sword was clashing against the Queen’s over and over again. He was advancing. “Getting _tired,_ ‘highness’?” he sneered.

“You wish.” She held her defense. The Queen _was_ getting tired; even Rey could see that. But the Queen held a determined spark in her eyes. She would not back down.

Ben defeated the knight he’d been fencing and whirled to face his mother. Another knight blocked his path. Ben glowered and raised his sword. Their swords clashed.

Poe defeated knight after knight. He was sweaty and grinning, a wild gleam in his eyes. “COME ON!” he yelled recklessly. “YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE ME?!” Several knights advanced on him at once. Poe stood, grinning, at the center of the circle. “About time I had a challenge.” He executed a move that was such a blur of motion, Rey had no idea what he’d just done, but then he was backflipping out of the circle, the knights were crashing into each other at its center, and then they all fell like dominoes. “COME ON!” Poe challenged again.

Kylo Ren had the Queen backed against her throne. He was leaning over her, their swords locked once more. “You _will_ bow to me,” he vowed.

“Never!”

Ben defeated yet another knight and wasted no more time in strolling over to Kylo Ren. He grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around to face him. “You want to kill my mother?” he challenged. “You’re going to have to kill me first.”

“NO!” Rey shouted. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized just how much she _didn’t want him dead._

Several heads turned briefly to face her. This turned the tide of many fights, and not all of them favorably.

Kylo Ren had the chance to slice open Ben’s shoulder.

Ben’s hand flew to his wound automatically; he winced.

“You think you can defeat me?” Kylo Ren taunted. He advanced on Ben mercilessly. Ben barely had time to draw his sword up once more and block the blow. Their swords locked dangerously close to his good shoulder.

Suddenly Kylo Ren arched weirdly.

“Yes,” said the Queen.

Ben backed away, his eyes wide.

Kylo Ren’s head bowed slowly to look down at the bloody sword tip protruding from his abdomen.

“I think I can,” the Queen finished, pulling her sword out from Kylo Ren’s stomach.

Kylo Ren fell to the ground.

All fighting ceased.

Everyone turned towards the center of the room.

Queen Leia held up her bloody sword and levelled a grim glare at everyone in the room. “Would anyone else like to challenge my authority?”

One foolish Knight charged towards the Queen. Ben cut him down with a quick, bloody slash before he could make it up the steps to the throne. He stood protectively in front of his mother, sword drawn, shoulder bleeding.

Almost simultaneously, everyone else in the room bowed before the Queen on one knee, except Finn, who instead bowed his head, presumably because it would have been hard to genuflect with Rey on his back.

“That’s what I thought.” The Queen turned to her son. She assessed him for a long moment before speaking. “You turned against me.”

“I know, mother.” The prince turned to face her and genuflected on the steps to her throne, bowing his head low. “Punish me as you see fit.”

The Queen’s bloody sword hung at her side, her grip still firm. “Tell me,” she implored. “Was it not _you_ wearing the Mask of Ren?”

“It was,” the prince confirmed.

The Queen nodded as though she’d expected this. She paused. “How long ago did you stop?”

Ben’s eyes flickered over towards Rey. “About four days hence.” He tilted his chin upward to look at his mother. “But I stopped _being_ Kylo Ren longer ago than that.”

The Queen nodded once. “You’ve killed a lot of people.”

“I know, Mother.” Ben lowered his head remorsefully.

“You have a lot to answer for.”

“I know.”

Queen Leia sharply met Rey’s eyes. “Come here,” she instructed Finn.

Finn looked behind him, surprised. He met the Queen’s eyes and mouthed ‘me’? and her eyes said ‘yes, you’ with a slight trace of humor, and then Finn was walking towards the Queen, Rey half-conscious on his back, her head aching with trying to piece everything together.

“You must be the girl I’ve heard so much about,” she said to Rey.

Ben bristled protectively. “She did nothing wrong.”

“I know that,” the Queen snapped at her son, putting him back in line. He bowed his head submissively, but his eyes remained glued on Rey. If eyes could burn, she’d have holes seared through her own.

The Queen stared straight at her, commanding her attention. “Tell me, child.”

“Rey,” Ben gritted.

An amused twitch raised the Queen’s mouth. _“Rey,_ ” she corrected. “How did you come by the droids owned by Luke Skywalker?”

“I found them,” she answered simply.

The Queen searched her eyes for a long moment and seemed to settle on this being the truth. “Did you find The Key?”

Rey frowned at her. “The key?” she repeated dumbly.

“I didn’t think so,” the Queen said as though she’d expected this.

“The key, Mother?” Ben repeated, brow furrowed. His eyes parted from Rey’s face.

“Hush, child.” She returned her attention to Rey. Her gaze was uncomfortably keen. “I know you from somewhere,” she decided.

Poe stood protectively closer to Rey and Finn. “She’s my sister.”

_“Adopted_ sister, am I right?”

Poe frowned, eyes darting to Rey, then away. “Yes.”

The Queen nodded.

Well, this was brand-new information to Rey. “Is there anyone else who would like to tell me something today?” she slurred, too tired for another shock to her system.

“I knew your father,” the Queen informed her.

“Well that’s brilliant,” Rey slurred grumpily. She coughed and winced.

Finn glanced at her worriedly over his shoulder. “Can someone get her some water?” he pleaded the room at whole.

Ben’s attention returned to Rey’s face, his own expression etched in deep concern.

“Fetch her some water,” the Queen ordered one of her remaining guards. “And the rest of you,” she instructed, “Arrest anyone who is still loyal to Hux.” She glanced pointedly at her son. “That _is_ who is wearing your mask, isn’t it?”

Ben nodded and looked down.

“I thought as much.” Her mouth pulled grimly to the side. “He was a terrible Grand Vizier.”

*

Rey was cushioned comfortably against Finn’s sturdy, padded frame, and she was currently gulping down her third golden goblet full of water. She’d never tasted such clean, cold water in her _life._

“Are you feeling better?” the Queen asked, kind but firm.

Rey nodded and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Good.” She was sitting on her throne. Several people were scrubbing the floor clean on the edges of the room. “Can you speak?”

Rey nodded once more, caught herself, smiled ruefully, and said “Yes, my queen.”

“Good,” the Queen repeated with a sparkle in her eye. “I suspect you would like an explanation as to why so many people so desperately sought those droids.”

“That would be nice,” Rey agreed.

The Queen’s mouth turned up on one side in sharp amusement. “The two of them, separate, are extremely valuable,” she explained. “But together… they are _priceless._ ”

This did not explain much.

Rey shook her head in confusion. She opened her mouth to ask why, but the Queen pointed to the center of the throne room. The R2 unit had been recovered from wherever-they’d-taken-it, and was sitting on the carpet, just as sedate as ever. A soldier half-dressed as a Knight of Ren led the BB-8 unit towards the center of the room. The BB-8 unit chirped curiously at the R2 unit, turning its head this way and that as though trying to inquire, or perhaps explain, something to everyone in the room.

The Queen rose from her throne and knelt in front of the BB-8 unit. “Turn around,” she instructed. The BB-8 unit obeyed, chattering away in a steady stream of differently inflected beeps. She plucked something from her dress, opened a hidden compartment at the back of the BB-8 unit’s head, and slid whatever-it-was into the thing jammed into the R2’s visual projector.

The R2 unit suddenly displayed a projection in the middle of the throne room. It was a topographic map, with blue lines and detailing, with a jagged orange line sprawling across its center.

The Queen, and everyone else in the room, stood reverently.

Rey stared at the map with uncomprehension. “What is it?”

“It’s the map to Luke Skywalker,” Finn explained with awed disbelief.

“And as you can see,” the Queen explained, _“I_ have the Key.”

“What good will finding him do?” Ben challenged, frowning. “He abandoned his kingdom longer ago than my father. He could be dead, for all we know.”

“He isn’t,” said the Queen with certainty.

“But how can you _know_ that?”

The Queen faced her son impatiently. “Because he’s my _brother._ ”

By the expression on Ben’s face, Rey suspected this cleared things up for him roughly as much as they did for her. Which is to say, not in the least.

“Believe me,” the Queen said very seriously, “I would know.”

“Supposing he is alive,” Poe interjected. Several eyes turned on him. “And supposing he _is_ still where this map leads. What then?”

“Then,” the Queen said as though this was obvious, “we will have my brother back.”

“Is that all this was about?!” Rey exclaimed indignantly. “Getting your _brother_ back?”

Rey could understand wanting to find one’s sibling. Her brother was, after all, the dearest person in the world to her. But Luke had disappeared nearly twenty years ago, before she was even _born,_ and the legends that sprung up around him were just as wild as they were conflicting. Some said he was greatly skilled with magic. Others said he’d gone mad. The darkest said he’d gone mad with grief after killing his father.

“Luke is the rightful ruler to this kingdom,” the Queen said. “Things started to fall apart as _soon_ as he left. He is needed, in order to return balance to the kingdom.”

“But he’s been gone so _long!”_ Rey protested.

“Can’t _we_ fix it?” Ben agreed. He’d remained in his spot, kneeling in front of the Queen’s throne, but his attention was focused on Rey.

Rey found his attention disconcerting.

“We can,” Leia granted. “But we _must_ find Luke.”

Poe exchanged a glance with Finn, then looked up at the Queen with great reverence. “How do we start?”

* * *

Rey still wouldn’t look at him.

Ben supposed this was only to be expected, considering he’d lied to her from the start, captured her in an alley, turned out to be one of her greatest enemies, and then saved her life with no chance for explanation whatsoever.

But she was never going to _get_ that explanation if she kept giving him the cold shoulder.

Ben had thought that being on a ship would help. There was only so much space, only _so_ many places she could go.

But Rey had become an expert at avoiding him. There was always somewhere she had to go, or someone she had to talk to, or something she had to do. Her disgustingly-in-love friends Finn and Poe flanked her like guard dogs, distracted only by each other, but at the slightest plea for help from Rey, they were at her side once more, eyes snapping, shoulders squared, ready to beat him up if necessary.

Ben was getting tired of retreating.

The second he saw Rey alone, he cornered her against a wall, hands braced on either side of her. She tried to dodge to the side, but he crowded closer, holding her in place.

“Let me _go!”_

“Not until you listen to me.”

“Are you _threatening_ me?”

“No!” Ben made a frustrated noise. “Why won’t you _listen_ to me?”

“Maybe because you’re full of _bullshit._ ”

“Can’t you see I’ve _changed?”_

“People never change,” Rey said darkly. She slipped out from under his arm.

Ben caught her by the wrist. “Please.”

She yanked her hand away. “No.” There was brief hesitation in her eyes before she squared her shoulders and turned away from him again. “I want nothing to _do_ with you. I’m only _here_ because of your _mother._ ”

Ben silently watched her walk away, letting her escape _yet again._ He banged his fists against the wall. His explanation sat on his lips once more, perpetually unexpressed.

* * *

“You haven’t forgiven my son,” the Queen observed.

Rey jumped in surprise at her voice, spinning around to face her. She’d been leaning against the bow of the ship, admiring the starry night sky. She’d never seen so many stars before. Somehow she’d forgotten she wasn’t alone.

The Queen stood beside her and looked up at the sky. “I understand, of course.” The Queen’s tone was at once light and serious. She was quiet for a moment before she suddenly asked, “Have you ever heard the story of how my father died?”

“Many times,” Rey answered. “But never the same story twice.”

The Queen nodded sagely. “That doesn’t surprise me. He was a man draped in legends.” She settled on the bench near the bow and stared out at sea. Her time-softened face was regal in the moonlight. She patted the seat beside her. Without a thought, Rey obeyed.

“My father,” the Queen started, “was a very troubled man. His parents died at a young age, and the Royal Grand Vizier was forced to rule the kingdom until my father was old enough to rule. The Grand Vizier was very wise, and very just, but he had no idea how to raise a child. He tried, but… my father was a very difficult child.

“Ben has a lot of his grandfather in him. He, too, was a tempestuous child, at turns angry and petulant, always questioning authority, torn between his desires and what he knew was right- or _knows,_ I suppose- and for my father, these scales were tipped in the wrong direction by love, of all things.” She glanced at Rey, then back at the sky. “My mother loved him, although she tried to resist. She saw the darkness in him, and loved him in spite of it.

“When she became pregnant with his child, she fell gravely ill. And he turned to dark sorcery to try to save her. She warned him against it, told him she was at peace with her illness, even when it became clear that it would kill her. But he would not give up. He learned every dark spell that wizards are warned against, including, but not limited to, how to bring people back from death.”

The Queen paused to let this sink in. She continued, “The spell did not work. She gave birth to twins- me and Luke- but she died immediately thereafter. My father was enraged. He took her body from the hospital bed and attempted the spell to resurrect her, but it backfired. Not only did it fail to resurrect her, it nearly killed him as well. He lost a hand and both his legs, and was horribly deformed for the rest of his life. He wore a mask to hide his face, took a cocktail of medicines every morning to help aid his pain, but something had changed in him. He was never the same again.

“When his son came of age to rule, my father refused to surrender the throne. He had grown mad with power, conquering every surrounding area he could. He ruled with an iron fist- quite literally; his prosthetic hand was made of iron.” The Queen’s tone turned grim. “Luke confronted his father about his right to coronation, and pointed out rightly that he was too ill to carry on. But my father refused to surrender his power. Their argument escalated into a duel, right there in the throne room. Luke lost his hand. My father lost his life.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Rey asked, fascinated and reverent, but just a bit confused.

The Queen glanced at her once more. In her same storytelling tone, she resumed, “What followed was a great commotion. Luke was consumed with guilt over killing his father. He’d never wanted things to escalate that far. He gave me no more than a quick apology before he fled the kingdom. The very next day, I was coronated and proclaimed the rightful Queen, my father was buried, and Luke disappeared, nowhere to be found. The only clue he left was a small object on my dresser, which I did not find until days later.”

“The key,” Rey guessed.

The Queen nodded. She turned her attention to Rey. “My father made the wrong choice. He fell to darkness to protect the one he loved. He gave in to the violent urges churning within him. And I have seen those same tendencies echoed in my son. But you,” she said very pointedly, “bring out the light in him.”

Rey digested this. She frowned at the Queen, her eyes widened. “Are you suggesting he’s in _love_ with me?”

The Queen silently raised her eyebrows, her eyes all-knowing.

“Oh no,” Rey objected, almost tempted to laugh. “No. There is _no_ way he’s in _love_ with me.”

The Queen watched her, as though she was waiting.

“That’s _ridiculous!”_ Rey insisted. “He doesn’t even _like_ me!”

The Queen waited, expression unchanging.

Rey stood, flailing her hands for emphasis. “He _tortured_ me! He _tried_ to _kill_ me!”

The Queen kept waiting.

And even as Rey turned to stomp away, she realized her words were untrue. Ben _hadn’t_ tortured her. When he had kidnapped her, his interrogation had been… odd, at best. She realized abruptly that he must have left the room, come back, slipped into a disguise just out of her line of sight, and pretended that he’d also been held captive, just so that she’d give information to someone she’d trusted. Sure, he’d been awkward about it, and not in the _least_ bit subtle, looking back, but he had presented his _least_ threatening self in order to extract the needed information from her. And once it became apparent she’d told him all she knew, he’d left her and given the order for her release.

The man who had tortured her was Hux. The second time she’d been interrogated by Kylo Ren, it hadn’t been the same man behind the mask. He hadn’t captured her twice and suddenly turned cruel. She’d been captured by two different men.

And the former had tried to _save_ her.

This realization stilled her in her steps.

Ben had been at her brother’s side in the throne room.

Ben had stood _between_ the masked man and his mother, ready to defend her to the death.

Perhaps Rey _had_ read him wrong.

But she still had no idea who the real Ben was.

* * *

Ben avoided her for several days, giving her space. It pained him deeply to do so.

Poe had pulled him aside heatedly and threatened him, warning him that if he ever cornered Rey in a dark hallway again, prince or not, Ben would pay. But upon Ben’s insistence that he was earnest and merely wanted to explain what happened, Poe had huffed a sigh, relented, and instructed Ben how to get on his sister’s good side.

Step one was giving her space. That was what she wanted.

And it seemed to be working so far; he’d caught her stealing glances at him whenever they were in the same area. He took to watching her in his peripheral vision; he wouldn’t allow himself more than letting his eyes flick up to hers for the briefest moments. He stopped trying to corner her. He stopped haunting the hallways. Whenever they did cross paths, he stepped aside to give her room and averted his eyes. The slight breeze she left as she passed by felt like a dismissing kiss on his skin.

Step two was waiting. This was the hardest step.

Poe had assured him that Rey would come to him when she was ready. Rey preferred to do things on her own terms, and this situation was fragile. Like it or not, Ben _had_ done her wrong, and as much as he hated feeling powerless, he needed to wait for _her_ before he could begin to fix it.

She’d said hello to him this morning. The hesitant smile, the quiet “Hi, Ben,” echoed in his ears all day; he both hated and treasured the spiral sunshine fractals in his gut, every beam a reflection of her smile.

The sky was dark, the sea calm. Ben stood near the front of the ship, alone with his thoughts. The sea breeze blew back his hair. He drew in a deep breath, savoring the salty air, the relative silence. It had been so long since his mind was calm. Thoughts of Rey washed over him, crashing over and over against his consciousness like the waves meeting the front of the ship.

“Ben,” she said, appearing at his side.

It was dark outside, the sky shining with countless stars. He turned to look down at her.

She tucked a stray curl behind her ear. She bit her lip and eyed the ground to her right, as though uncertain what to say. She squared her shoulders and met his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Ben reeled back in surprise. He couldn’t let her finish her apology, whatever it was. _“I’m_ sorry,” he interjected. She opened her mouth to object, a frown forming on her face, but he continued before she could speak, “I’ve lied to you. I’ve hurt you, and I cannot take that back. I’m sorry.”

Rey’s mouth slowly closed. She searched his face.

He went on, “I’ve been a right ass. Cornering you in dark hallways, holding you by the wrist. That was wrong of me. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Ben…” She seemed to be weighing her words. Inexplicably, she blushed. “You’ve been trying to tell me something.” The way she met his eyes sent electricity jackrabbiting through his chest. “What is it?”

The words evaporated before they could reach his tongue. Suddenly everything about her seemed to burst with clarity-- every freckle on her face, every errant curl blowing in the gentle night breeze, every glint of starlight that softly lit her figure, every eyelash, the exact stormy, imploring question in her eyes. Ben’s heart crashed to life. “I…” He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. She waited. She herself shone like a star. He couldn’t. “...I wanted to tell you, who I was.” He scanned her face. “From the start,” he added, even though that was only _almost_ true. His eyes darted guiltily to the side. “From that night in the junkyard,” he corrected. “I wanted to tell you, but… I knew that you’d hate me, if you knew.”

“And you didn’t want me to hate you.”

Had she stepped closer? Had he?

Ben shook his head ‘no’, silently confirming what she’d just said. He stared off to the side, badly needing to tell her why, but too afraid of the words.

She tilted her head. “Why?”

He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t trap her like that, force her to deal with feelings she didn’t reciprocate. He knew better than to assume he’d done anything to endear himself to her. If anything, she probably still thought he was a _monster._ The word had stung. “...Because you’re important to me,” he understated.

And Ben hadn’t moved, so it had to have been Rey that closed the distance. He startled when her hand caressed his cheek. He met her eyes with utter surprise.

“Why?” she repeated, softer, examining his eyes as though she already suspected the answer.

No. He must be kidding himself. That was wishful thinking. Otherwise she’d be backing away, instead of stepping closer. “Because I care about you,” he admitted. Another step closer to the truth.

Rey’s hand traveled gently up his cheek and dipped into his hair. Electricity buzzed under his scalp as her fingers caressed the curls. He felt his expression soften with wonder.

Her eyes had become more certain.

“...You _care_ about me,” she repeated, almost teasing.

His eyebrows came down in instinctive defense. “Of course I care about you!”

She was smirking now. “‘Of course’?” she repeated with mirthful amusement.

“Yes!” He felt his cheeks heat. Her hand dipped further back into his hair. Her other hand found its way to his shoulder and rested lightly there. “I never wanted harm to come to you! If I’d known what Hux had planned, I would have killed him on the spot.” He caught the wrist that was so distractingly sorting through his hair. His eyes bored into hers. “Rey, I never wanted any of that to happen to you. I should have stayed away from you. If I hadn’t put on that stupid disguise… Maybe none of this would have happened to you.”

The hand on his shoulder came to cup his jaw. He frowned and tightened his grip on her wrist. When she winced, he let go and took a step back.

“All I do is hurt you.” He turned away. A cool breeze blew, and it felt like the very breath of death, come to seal his words in cruel finality. He drew his arms around his chest, hugging himself against the cold. He was destined to be alone.

“You love me.”

Ben’s heart stopped. He stared, unseeing, with wide eyes.

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. It almost made him jump. “Don’t you.” She sounded so sure. Yet her voice was so soft.

“...Yes.” There was no point in denying it. She knew.

Ben’s next surprise was a pair of warm, slender arms wrapping around his waist. He looked down in disbelief. He felt her warm cheek press against his back. “I thought so,” she said with a smile in her voice.

“You--” Ben raised his hands tentatively to touch her arms. They remained securely in place. Careful, as though the slightest brush could cause the moment to shatter, he rested his hands on top of hers. He was almost afraid to breathe. “You don’t mind?”

Rey hummed thoughtfully against his back. She shifted her face slightly, so it was easier to speak. “No,” she said decidedly. “I don’t think I do.”

“Then…” His hands wrapped around hers like petals cradling rosebuds. “You don’t mind if I…?”

“If you what?”

He closed his eyes. Rey was giving him a second chance. She didn’t think he was a monster. She wasn’t afraid of him. She didn’t hate him; she wasn’t running. “If I court you,” he finished. “Properly. -With your permission, of course.”

He felt her smiling against his back. “Of course.”

There was an awkward silence. Ben’s eyes flickered to the side. His stomach fluttered. “...Is that you agreeing with me, or is that you granting permission?”

“Yes.”

Ben frowned. He turned around to face her. “Rey--”

Rey was grinning. She grabbed both sides of his face and kissed him. He barely had time to register what she was doing before she released him, grinning again.

“It’s a yes,” she said.

* * *

Queen Leia kept sending knowing smirks at her son, who in turn, kept ducking his head and blushing. He and Rey seemed to have sorted things out. They were not quite as obvious as Rey’s brother and her friend, who never seemed able to keep their eyes or their hands off each other, but the Queen caught enough bashful smiles and brushing hands to know.

The map led them across the sea, to a far-off island, across mountain and glen, to a seemingly long-abandoned temple constructed of smooth off-white stone. Moss crept across the side of the building, evidence of years of disuse, and there was not a single sign of human inhabitation.

They had all but admitted the mutual conclusion that Luke was no longer here when Rey spotted a cloaked figure making their way up the hillside.

The moment Leia saw him, she knew.

One hand was metal, and his beard was long and graying, but she knew, even before he lifted his hood, whose face they would see.

Luke’s haunted blue eyes bore into her own. “Leia,” he said in a voice rusty with years of disuse.

“Luke.”

And she pulled him into her arms, and held him there for a long time.


End file.
